A Shadow's Whisper
by iamanevilgenius
Summary: Harry Potter wants to die. Draco Malfoy wants to help... but with what?
1. Truth or Lie

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

**Additional Notes/ Warning Labels:**

1. This was supposed to be an emotional/angst story. It didn't quite turn out that way, but I'm placing it under that category. On the other hand, it's a psychological story. You'll see what I mean.

2. This is what I'd call a semi-slash. There are slashy elements, but if it's a slash, you make up your mind. There is, however, nothing explicit, so if you've come for the "hot spots" you won't find them here. The pairing is past Harry/Ginny, obviously but as I said it is a semi-slash. See warning number seven.

3. I'm American, so excuse my mistakes. (As in screwing the whole scene up with American slang because I don't know any better…) Especially when dealing with the legal system. I'm no lawyer… I'm a medical student, not a law student!

4. There is self-harm in this story

5. Character Deaths, past tense.

6. Mystery of a sort, exists in this story… There are gaps in this story, deliberately placed there to make you fill them in yourself, and so my timing may be off on certain parts of the story, sorry about that. The only time I had to write this was in the middle of the night…

7. Unrequited love… HP/DM

8. The rating for this story is a low M due to an excessive usage certain swear words.

9. As Jeff Zinnert once said, "Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence."

* * *

"The instruments of darkness tell us truths..."

**

* * *

**

Prologue –** Truth or Lie**

– 

_The Present_

It made the headlines on the paper – of every paper, actually, not just the Daily Prophet. The courtroom was filled to the brim. They were waiting for the trial of the last living free Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy.

It was funny, in a very sad way. Lucius Malfoy had escaped twice from the bowels of prison and punishment. Yet, this time… he was under trial and the evidence was damning. Lucius could not talk his way out of this. He could not bribe his way out it either. He was a condemned man, and many felt that the trial was really a mockery of the judicial system. There was no point in giving Lucius Malfoy the opportunity to even try to defending himself and everyone knew it. The evidence alone condemned him.

Those who did not know who had given Lucius Malfoy away were quickly informed by their friends and acquaintances.

For a moment the a hush befell the crowd as Hermione Granger, the new Minister of Magick, walked up to the front of the room. She was still the girl she had been – but she had grown, changed from the person she had been long ago. The war had changed her.

Everyone murmured for a bit, whispering that it was unfair for Hermione to be there. She was getting married to Auror Ron Weasley in less than two weeks – she should be celebrating, not leading the trial of the condemned Death Eater Lucius Malfoy.

"The Wizengammot is here to press charges and try Lucius Malfoy," said Hermione in a cool, clear voice that carried over the crowded courtroom. "The are charges are…" She calmly went on to list the charges. Lucius Malfoy was charged with the murders of Arabella Figg, Dudley Dursley, Ginny Weasley, Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, Hannah Abbot, Denis Creevey, Kevin Whitby, Stewart Ackerley, Rose Zeller, and Vernon Dursley. He was also charged with the attempted murders of Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, Colin Creevey, Minerva McGonagall, Fred Weasley, Katie Bell, George Weasley, Gabrielle Delacour, and Arthur Weasley.

She called forth the witnesses to his crimes, and provided the evidence.

This took some time, so it was nearing noon by the time conversation began once again.

Ron Weasley made his way down, looking exhausted as he sat down heavily in a chair next to Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom.

"I don't know why she's bothering," Ron said, with a sigh, shaking his head. "I mean, it's obvious he's not going to find a way to free himself. We've already got too much of the evidence."

"Yeah," said Seamus. "It's a good thing that you've finally found that evidence – I mean, think about it. If you hadn't figured out where it was, then Lucius Malfoy might've been free to go through with the plans he was making. A new Dark Lord!"

They shuddered and were silent for a while.

"Say, Ron, how _did_ you know where it was?" asked Neville. "I mean, I know you and Hermione bought Malfoy Manor after Lucius was arrested, but you've never been there before. I was there and Harry just walked into Lucius Malfoy's old study and Dean told me that it was heavily guarded with wards – he had to have known the passwords to get into the study, let alone into the Manor."

"Yeah, how _did_ you manage that? From what I heard, the Ministry seized it against Hermione's will, but nobody could get onto the grounds as Lucius sealed the wards. According to the files, it should've been impossible, unless you knew how to bypass the charms."

"Malfoy," said Ron simply.

"What?" asked Seamus, incredulously. "Lucius Malfoy let you _in_?"

"No, Draco Malfoy," said Ron.

"But that's impossible," Neville said, staring at him. "Draco Malfoy's _dead_."

"No, he's not," said Ron. "Trust me on, this Neville. I thought he was dead too. Nearly gave me a heart attack when I walked into Harry's flat and saw him…." He shook his head, remembering it now.

"Are you sure he's alive," asked Neville.

"Well, what else could he be?"

"An Inferius," Neville whispered.

Ron laughed. "No, no – he's definitely not an Inferius. In fact, I wonder now if he's telling the truth when he tells Harry he's an angel."

"An angel? _Malfoy_?" Seamus snorted. "Not bloody likely."

"I know. But I wonder sometimes," said Ron, frowning. "There's just something about him these days that screams goodness and purity… which is impossible seeing as not only is he, well, _Malfoy_, but he's still his old self, mostly."

"So does he love Harry?" asked Seamus, lightly. "I mean, he's living with him isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Ron with a half-laugh.

"Yes, but according to Draco, they're just _friends_," said Hermione, joining them. She looked exhausted.

"Neville thinks Draco's an Inferius," said Ron.

Hermione looked at Neville. "Why?"

"Because he's dead," said Neville softly. "I swear I _saw_ him die. It wasn't my imagination. He died – his Dad – Lucius was trying to kill Harry and Harry had his back to him – he was fighting You-Know-Who and… Malfoy stepped in front of his father as he cast the curse… He had to have died. Lucius's wand was _pointing right at him_!"

"But he's not," said Hermione. "Draco's alive and he's supposed to be making sure Harry doesn't come by to watch the trial. I think Draco told him that he can't stand seeing Lucius get sentenced because, after everything, he _is_ Draco's dad. Harry believed him."

"But I know Draco couldn't care less since he's the one who gave us all the evidence – or that is, he told us how to get to it, anyway," added Ron.

"So he lied to Harry?" guessed Neville.

"Yeah. I think he loves him," said Hermione sighing. "I don't know about him, really. I think Draco loves Harry, but not in the way I love Ron…"

"No," said Ron. "He loves him in a distanced sort of way. Like he knows that Harry could never love him back, but that's the sad part because Harry _does_ love him. Draco just gently pushes him away. Harry told me that –"

Hermione glanced at her watching, saying, "I have to go back. The trial's starting up again. Come on, Ron."

Neville and Seamus watched them go.

xxx

Everyone knew that Draco Malfoy had given the Ministry of Magick the evidence. Yet, it was an unconfirmed rumor. Just as everyone knew that so and so got laid by so and so – these days, it was Oliver Wood and some of the more famous names of their day.

Yet when the whisper that Draco Malfoy had given the evidence to the Ministry came around, people paused to think.

Draco Malfoy had been declared dead at the end of the final battle, but no one had ever found his body. Yet, they had found his wand, broken on the grass near the site where Harry defeated Voldemort for the last and final time. It had made sense that he died because no wizard of any pureblood family would willingly snap their own wand and walk away from the Wizarding world.

The usual rumors ran for years – Draco Malfoy was in love with Ginny Weasley, and he'd died saving her. He'd died saving Harry; he'd died saving Ron or Hermione. Or the most believable – he died trying to stop Harry from killing his master.

Neville was the one who first said that Draco Malfoy had died trying to save Harry and the rumor grew from there. Now the whisper that Draco Malfoy had told the ministry the location of all the damning evidence against his father had stopped many witches and wizards in their tracks because if he _had_ told the Ministry, then Draco Malfoy was alive and the Ministry had lied when they listed him among the dead. The rumor remained largely unconfirmed. However, the rumor mill twisted things around.

The newer rumors claimed that the Ministry made it up – that they'd gotten lucky, that they'd somehow blackmailed Lucius into damning himself. Or the more extreme ones where Harry had married Draco Malfoy, who'd turned himself into a girl at the end of the war.

Then there were the whispers of people who had seen Draco Malfoy walking down the street talking avidly with one of the Golden Trio. There was a fuzzy picture taken at a park where Draco Malfoy was sitting on a swing laughing as Harry gestured wildly, speaking. It had appeared on the Daily Prophet first and then gone on to many papers.

And the final one that Neville now saw. It was on a magazine, which screamed about Lucius Malfoy's trial. It had a picture of Draco Malfoy, looking straight at him. Neville recognized the background as Hermione's apartment and Harry was standing right behind Draco. The strange thing about the picture was that Harry was moving, but Draco was unmoving as though he were in a Muggle picture. No… Neville saw, Draco _was_ moving, he blinked every so often, or as he did now, turned and walked out of the picture, and Harry followed him.

The words that the reporter wrote caught his eye.

_The only answers we have gotten regarding the two boys was an off-handed remark made by one Fred Weasley, who said, _"_Draco Malfoy claims he_'_s Harry_'_s guardian angel._" _This remark is apparently an old joke between the former enemies..._

Neville sighed, wondering if Draco Malfoy was alive and what he was doing? Harry had been hurt enough as it was.

"Hey, Neville, it's starting up again," said Seamus. "Coming?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, putting the paper down.

xxx

A few miles away, a blonde boy sat in the shade, contemplating the year. It was May now, and it would be eight… no, nine years since Voldemort's fall and a year since he'd come back to this world. He'd come back for a reason, of course, he knew that. Yet… there was no reason for him to stay.

_There's_ _Harry_, he thought. He turned and found the object of his thoughts ordering a sundae and grinned as he watched Harry's eagerness. He'd been rather worried that Harry wouldn't be happy ever again…

His expression darkened slightly as he remembered how he'd found Harry…

He shook it off and wondered if Harry would be all right if he left after all this time.

Draco Malfoy sighed, leaning his head back, and closing his eyes, sinking into memories.

* * *

– Shakespeare

* * *

**A/N:** This is a story I wrote that I probably shouldn't have written. I don't like it because I feel like I make it all seem like a farce. It was meant to be another angst – a story to match the general setting as _Imperfections of Perfection_, but it turned out to be something a bit different. When I began it, I intended it to be a bit different…but not to the extent it is. I don't think this has the emotional feel I wanted, but it may be because it's in third person, rather than the first…but I gave it my best shot. I won't go back and change it – not really, except maybe to fix the grammar and other errors that I missed the first time around. So, I hope you enjoy this new story and drop me a line if you will.

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. Shakespeare! Ah, Macbeth! Sorry couldn't resist. The chapter's quote is from Macbeth. Act I, scene three, I believe. I can't remember off the top of my head.


	2. I: Death Wish

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Let me be empty

And weightless and maybe

I'll find some peace tonight"

**

* * *

**

Chapter I

**Death Wish**

It had been exactly eight years.

Eight fucking years and he still couldn't get over her. Eight years ago, Ginny Weasley had jumped in front of him as a Death Eater cast a spell that would have most certainly killed him. Eight fucking years had passed and he still wasn't dead. Voldemort was dead. Ginny was dead. Why couldn't he just _die_?

Harry Potter staggered home drunk. It wasn't the first time and it wasn't going to be the last time he went home drunk. He reeked of alcohol and he hummed some sad Muggle song about unrequited love. And he laughed at the irony. His first lover had died years ago saving him. Ginny was dead and he wasn't.

His mind went back to the same thoughts. Ginny had died because she loved him and he was a goddamned sonofabitch who couldn't care less. He hated her… no he hated himself for feeling this way.

He walked down the streets, heading down to his flat. He lived in London in an apartment. It was… serviceable.

Harry wasn't thinking about much, really – he was drunk, and the only thoughts that drifted through his mind were the drunken thoughts of a drunk. He thought about how everything swayed in his sight, about how it felt as though he were walking on a ship at sea. He thought about the girl who was undressing in front of the window, silhouetted behind her curtain and the light. He thought about the teenage girls who giggled as they walked by wearing tiny skirts and high heels on their long legs.

He thought about his warm bed and the nice firewhiskey that waited for him by his bed.

He arrived at his door before he managed to realize it. Blinking, he stared at the door stupidly, before he remembered to take out his key and unlock the door.

He ignored the objects in the room and walked to the answering machine and pressed the button. Hermione's worried voice filled the room.

"_Harry, I was just calling to make sure you're all right. Ron wants to see you sometime soon. We were hoping you could come over to a party. There's somebody we want you to meet…"_

Then there was the next message.

_"Harry… Please talk to us. Please, we miss you. We love you…"_

_"Harry you goddamned bastard – Ginny's dead and you're not! Get over it – it's been nearly eight fucking years, mate. Get it over and find yourself another girl."_

"Love you, too, Seamus," Harry muttered darkly. The telephone had finally been introduced to the Wizarding world. Fire-calling was still used, but the telephone – especially cellphones, were becoming common in the Wizarding world as well, with newer magickally enhanced versions of the Muggle technology they'd finally adopted.

Harry wandered over to the refrigerator and grabbed another alcoholic drink. He downed half of it in one gulp as he walked over the sink, taking in the dirty dishes. He stared at it for a moment, before he walked off, heading toward the bathroom.

_You goddamned bastard – Ginny's dead and you're not…_ Seamus words rang in his head as he walked into the bathroom to take a piss and brush his teeth. He sighed in relief as he emptied his bladder. He flushed the toilet and turned to wash his hands. He opened the cabinet, looking at the variety of items inside. He stared at the old bottle of Dreamless Potion. He wondered… He glanced at the Muggle sleeping tablets he'd begun taking shortly after he'd chosen to live in the Muggle world, even though he was still part of the Wizarding world. He stared at the two and again, he thought about Seamus, replying the words in his head. _Ginny's dead and you're not – get over it_!

He wondered what it would be like to die.

He was sick of it all. If he walked into the Wizarding world, everyone was agog that he was the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Murder-Voldemort. He was their _Chosen_ _One_. He sneered at himself.

Drunk, he watched as his hands reached out to grab the bottle of pills and the vial filled with the potion.

He smiled bitterly as he walked – staggered, really, into his bedroom. He pulled the stopper and lifted the vial of Dreamless Potion to his lips.

The phone rang its shrill noise cutting through his alcohol fogged mind. He looked at toward the door before he decided to ignore it. He popped a sleeping pill into his mouth and washed it down with some potion.

Outside his room, the answering machine picked up.

"Hey, it's Harry, leave a message for me!"

There was a beep and Luna Lovegood's voice filled the room. "Harry, if you're there pick up…. Harry?... Oh, well, I guess you aren't home. Listen, come by my house tonight. Don't do anything stupid, Harry. There are people who care about you! You've better come over to my house and no alcohol! You've been drinking too much. You're hurting yourself, Harry. Call me back, okay, Harry? I'm worried about you…"

Harry didn't hear her nor did he care. He was in a dazed stupor as the effects combined.

He took another pill and swallowed it, taking another swig of the potion.

xxx

Luna Lovegood had a very bad feeling.

"He's not answering the phone," she said worriedly to her fiancé, Blaise Zabini.

"Maybe he's in the washroom," Blaise suggested.

"I don't think so," said Luna, pacing. She could sense that something was wrong. It was the same feeling she had when she went to find her mother and witnessed her death.

She had regretted it for years that she had ignored the bad feeling for as long as she had – that she'd been too busy playing with her dolls and her toys to go and follow the nagging feeling she got somewhere on her chest, between her heart and the base of her throat, where her pulse beat strongly.

She had called Harry, feeling that bad feeling once again. Harry didn't have a fireplace, and thus everyone used the Muggle phone to call Harry, except he had not answered the phone.

"I'm worried about him, Blaise. What if…" She trailed off.

"What if what?" asked Blaise, his eyes bright and curious in his dark face.

"What if… he's like Draco," Luna asked.

"Draco… well, if he's alive, I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"That's the problem," said Luna. "I haven't sensed his aura since the day Harry killed Voldemort…. I get the feeling that Draco's… well, _dead_."

"He can't be," said Blaise serenely. "If anything, his aura's probably muted. A wand makes everything seem stronger, as it focuses it, you know. Besides, Luna, Draco _told_ me before he disappeared that day, that he was leaving us. He told me that he was leaving the Wizarding world for good and that he wasn't coming back."

"And you didn't stop him?" Luna asked in disbelief.

"No," said Blaise, holding out a hand to stop Luna from speaking and continued. "Draco made up his mind. I mean, it's a really odd and rare occurrence for a wizard to bind their own magick, but it happens, especially if a wizard is mentally ill – others bind their magick. Nothing says a wizard can't willingly bind his magick, and that's what Draco did. I guess it was permanent as he broke his own wand. That's all they ever found that belonged to him. His bags were gone, everything was gone."

"How do we know he's still alive, then? What's to say he didn't do everything and ended up dying somewhere, all alone with nobody to hold his hand?" Luna whispered. "I know what's beyond the veil… I hear them sometimes… but I've never heard Draco there, but I get the feeling he's not _here_ anymore."

"So where else could he be? And this isn't about Draco," Blaise pointed out. "It's about Harry. Harry isn't going to leave us, Luna. You know that."

Luna shook her head, wondering.

xxx

Harry was growing dizzy. Colors flashed in front of his eyes and he swayed on the bed. He wondered if he was going to throw up.

He bit his lip, staring at the bottle of pills in his hand and at the vial of potion. He squinted, trying to see how much of it was left. He didn't know how much of it was left. He needed more.

He turned the bottle over and swallowed more pills. _For Ginny,_ he thought to himself.

He hated himself because he realized he had not loved Ginny as much as he thought he did. He wanted it to be the way he remembered it, but he was forgetting what her smile looked like. He'd forgotten what color her eyes were. He thought they were blue like Ron's, but he couldn't remember…

He groaned, gagging and retched. He tried to hold it inside. He _needed_ this, Harry thought. He wanted it so badly…

It came as a surprise to him when he saw the lights flashing in front of his eyes growing brighter.

He sank into the bed, his eyes closing and his breathing ragged.

As he fell toward the light, his breathing slowed. His body stiffened and a seizure overtook it, as he lost control of his bodily functions.

He gasped out for air, his body shaking violently. He was unconscious, but his body struggled to survive. His body convulsed more violently, nearly choking on his own vomit.

Harry was no longer breathing when a figure walked toward the bed and stood over him, looking upon his body sadly. A pale, nearly transparent, hand reached out to brush his messy hair away from his sweaty forehead.

The figure frowned, seemingly contemplating some choice, then finally a nod, as though the figure was agreeing to something only he could hear. He reached down, his hand still seeming transparent enough to see the blue veins under his skin.

He knew as he reached down to ease Harry's head off the pillow, tilting it backward, opening his mouth, and magickally cleaning it without so much as a word – the first magick he had done in nearly eight years, that in acting out his decision would mean coming back to the world he'd left behind… the world he'd thought he'd left behind forever.

Very carefully, he leaned down, the light catching his fine, silvery hair as he put his lips against Harry's and breathed in life.

He waited for a moment longer, before repeating his actions. He chanted silently within his mind, pouring magick into the dying boy's body, causing the toxins to vanish. He couldn't get rid of it all, but he could ensure that Harry survived.

Harry had another seizure, but his mouth opened wide and he gasped in air. His eyes flew open, meeting a steady silver gaze.

Within his oxygen deprived mind, Harry thought, dazedly that those eyes were eyes in which he might see heaven.

"Malfoy?" Harry breathed, not knowing why he said the name he had not even spoken in a very long time, and had rarely wondered where the other was.

"Sleep, Harry, sleep," Malfoy murmured, placing a cool hand against Harry's cheek. And surprisingly, Harry's eyes closed and he slept, and didn't see Malfoy's skin flash with a brilliant light that poured into out through Malfoy's hand, heading out to heal a bit more of the damage in Harry's body.

* * *

– Sarah McLachlan

* * *

A/N: Um… I read about fifteen psychology textbooks for school and now I'm stuck with this basically useless knowledge I decided to make a bit more useful (not that I know anything about it)! Also, the redundant-ness of Harry's thoughts… well, he's drunk. So obviously, he's not making much sense. Anyway, drop me a line if you want. If not, well, be glad I haven't changed my mind about holding my chapters hostage and demanding reviews as ransom. It's annoying when people do that to me, so I always update… eventually.

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. The effect of the drugs and whatnot. I've never overdosed on drugs, so I don't know what'd be like to overdose. I don't really have any reliable sources, so the effects are artistic license.


	3. II: Thy Painful Path

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes that I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Hurt leads to bitterness, bitterness to anger, travel too far that road, and the way is lost."

**

* * *

**

Chapter II

**Thy Painful Path**

Not for the first time since he appeared in Harry Potter's apartment, Draco Malfoy wondered what he had done. He knew it was rare – for a – for _anyone_ to do what he could do. What he _had_ done.

He closed his eyes. The last thing he needed was bloody Potter to tell everyone he was… _here_. That he was back in England – back in the world he'd thought he'd left forever so long ago.

He glanced at the pigsty that was Potter's home. Har – _Potter_, he reminded himself severely, was lying in a clean bed again. Draco had cleaned it up, after all. He'd changed Harry's clothes and cleaned him up.

He'd dumped out the drugs, knowing that Harry might try them once again.

_Suicide_, he thought and he shuddered as the ugly word crept through his mind and chilled his soul. He glanced down at his hands, studying the skin. He was so pale, and he wondered if it was just that he was back home that made him realize how pale he was, or if was something that had to do with his magick.

He wouldn't tan nor would he burn. The sunlight simply did not touch his skin. He tried it now, sticking his hand out into the sunlight and watched as it bounced off, but he felt no warmth. He wondered if he ever had felt the warmth of the sun as it caressed his skin.

Sighing, he decided that he probably had not.

Leaning back in the chair he'd dragged next to Harry's bed, he closed his eyes and thought about white sand gleaming in the sunlight and the beautiful waves crashing onto the shores and the rocks. He thought about the memory of cold water touching his skin and the sensation of losing himself in the utter vastness of the empty, uncaring ocean.

He thought of the orange and pink tinted clouds that came with the sunset. He thought longingly of the heady feeling of riding the waves. He thought of long stretches of pavement with make-shift ramps and rails and a board underneath his feet. He thought of the exhilarating feeling of doing something that if done wrong, could easily kill him.

He thought about base jumping and what it was like – that shock to jump out into space, as though it were an attempt to commit suicide, only to be caught by nothing but an ingenious invention. He thought about sky-diving off an airplane and that sensation that reminded him so much of Quidditch and portkeys.

He thought about the dizzy rush when he flew up so high into the air, hanging in the wide, open sky as though he could fly on his own, without a broomstick. He thought about how it felt to simply fly in the sky, on the ocean, on the streets – jumping off the highest step of a building and heading straight down to the ground level with a skateboard under his feet. He thought of catching air – of ollies, flipkicks, wallriding, and he thought of the wide open spaces filled with snow. He thought about how easy it was to die, even for somebody like him.

Nobody knew him, nobody cared. They all thought he was dead and so he _was_ dead. Or rather, Draco Malfoy was dead. _He_ was a completely different story. He could drive at an impossibly fast speed – he could remember taking a car and stepping on the gas. Two ninety miles an hour, the engine straining, the rush as the curve came up to meet him, power sliding on a dime curve. That rush that came with the speed… The way he could easily drive off a cliff and jump with nothing more than a parachute strapped on to his back. The way he could just _live_.

Draco sighed, wondering what to do. He didn't want to stay, but obviously something had gone wrong. And the worst thing was that he wasn't supposed to be here. He could interfere if the incident was life-threatening. But he could only intervene in this particular manner once in the course of a lifetime. And the longest he could –

He broke off the train of thought, wondering what to do yet again. He wanted to go back to the life he had been living before being called back to this place with every fiber of his being.

Draco looked around, wondering what Harry Potter might say if he ever found out that Draco Malfoy had run away from the world, heading to a place no one would think to look for him. That he was presumed dead was all the better for him.

He leaned forward, bracing himself with his elbows on the bed, waiting for the emerald-eyed young man to awaken.

Draco Malfoy had made his choice. He would stay for as long as he was needed. It might break the rules, but Harry Potter needed him a lot more than the fifty-foot swells over at Cortes Bank needed him to ride them. He needed him a lot more than the ramps and stairs and rails needed him. After all, Draco Malfoy had made a blood-vow to protect Harry Potter, something he was sure the latter would not be pleased to find out.

But then, who was going to tell him? Draco was definitely not going to tell him. Let him assume…

The phone rang.

Draco turned – it was an instinctive action, and picked it up.

"Hello?" he said, not even thinking about the ramifications this action could have on his life.

"_Draco_?" said Luna Lovegood's absolutely horrified voice after a moment's pause.

"Shit," said Draco. With feeling. Lots of it.

xxx

Harry awoke feeling an odd sense of disappointment and a sick feeling of utter wrongness. For a moment he was utterly bewildered and then –

And _then_ he remembered.

He remembered that utter sense of joy when he thought he would die. Finally get that relief that was death. That wondrous feeling of belonging to _no_ one…

And that prat, _bloody **Draco** fucking **Malfoy**_, who just had to screw his death up…

_How dare he,_ Harry seethed. Who did he think he was to force him to _live_ – didn't Malfoy know he just wanted to die? He just wanted to fucking _die_.

That wasn't too much to ask for, after all.

xxx

In the end, it was Luna who came up with the solution and the reason why he was there. He was there because Luna had sent him, giving him the spare key she had in her possession. Never mind that if Harry – if _Potter_ asked, he'd have nothing to show him, let alone a key to the apartment.

He'd just hung up on her and been looking for something he could stick into the microwave to make _something_, but Harry seemed to survive on nothing but pure alcohol. And Draco couldn't just serve Firewhiskey a la whatever. He'd just found something that looked salvageable and edible when something crashed against the wall.

Draco turned, ready to head back into Ha – _Potter's_ bedroom when he stopped short. A bowl had fallen to the floor when Potter simply sent it crashing to the floor.

"What the bloody _fuck_ do you think you're doing here!" Harry snarled.

"Trying to make you breakfast, you ungrateful git," Draco snapped before he could stop himself.

"Try getting the fuck out of my house and don't come back!"

"I'm here and I'm not leaving, Potter. You just tried to kill yourself you bloody moron. You're on my watch. I promised."

"You have no _right_," Harry snarled. "You have absolutely no _right to come into my life!_"

"No," said Draco. "But I haven't got a place to stay. I'll just stay here for a while until I find something better, all right?"

Harry looked like he was going to argue, but for some odd reason, rather than the protests and angry accusations that would've flown out his mouth, he said instead, "Fine. Until you find another place to leave and then you can just leave me alone."

"Great!" said Draco, and turned back to trying to decide if the leftover Chinese food was still edible.

"I'm out of groceries," Harry drawled. "I didn't know I'd be forced to put up with you."

Draco didn't say anything; he just shoved the food into the microwave.

It was silent until finally Harry said, in a voice that sounded like he was about to cry, "Why?"

"Why what?" asked Draco impatiently.

"Why did you bother saving me?"

Draco gave him a very long look, before he said lightly, "I'm your guardian angel."

Harry snorted, the tears he'd felt burning his eyes drying up, though some still fell down his face. "Yeah right," he said. "Even I'm not _that_ bad!"

Draco cracked a smile, agreeing "No, you're not."

"So why did you save me?" Harry pressed.

"Because you saved me," said Draco finally. "Besides, Harry, I've thought about you for so long I guess I figured I needed you to stay firmly in this world."

"Right." Harry said bleakly. "I would've thought you of all people would be thrilled if I died."

Draco's smile froze in his face. He wondered if Harry hadn't heard the rumors that he, Draco Malfoy, was supposedly dead. Harry spoke like it was just a fact. Then again, Draco thought, looking at the apartment ruefully, Harry probably wasn't in a state to know that Draco Malfoy had died.

Not that Harry would've given a damn, Draco thought, surprising himself with the bitterness of the thought.

He realized that Harry was watching him expectantly, his expression closing up even more with each moment that went by.

"No," he said quietly. "I wouldn't be happy if you died, _Harry_."

"Why are you calling me Harry?" asked Harry.

"Because we're old enough to treat each other civilly."

"All right then. Then I guess I'll call you Draco."

"Whatever," said Draco. He was unsure of how to thread this ground. Harry had been furious one minute and suddenly he was acting like he wanted to be buddies with him.

Draco thought that Harry would've been angrier somehow. That he would've made sure that Draco left – that he couldn't stay. That he'd throw a fit…

Draco watched him warily, wondering what was going through Harry Potter's head.

xxx

Harry didn't mind Draco Malfoy really. For some strange reason arguing with Malfoy – Draco made him feel better. Even though his mood felt strange, almost out of place, he knew that somehow he could do this. He had to do this somehow.

Mal – Draco looked at him before saying, "I'm going to buy food. Would you like to come with me?"

"No," said Harry. "I'm sure you can find your own way back."

Draco gave him a long, _long_ look before he acquiesced and headed out the door, but not before he grabbed the key hanging near the door.

_Damn_, Harry thought.

Harry looked around, before his eyes caught the gleaming handle of a knife in a partially closed drawer. He made his way toward it and palmed it. He didn't know what he planned to do with it. He knew that it'd be harder with somebody hanging around the flat, but…

Harry closed the door of his bedroom and sat on the bed. He stared down at the lighter side of his arms. He wanted to die…

He hissed through his teeth the moment the blade sliced through his skin. He carved a smile into his arm. And the burn was enough to let him _feel_. He finally felt something other that agonizing feeling inside his veins. He sighed and felt _relief_.

xxx

Draco nearly dropped a carton of eggs on the floor. He wondered if he was having a panic attack. He didn't know why, but suddenly he felt the urge to get back to Harry – _now_.

He quickly paid, impatiently waiting for the girl behind the counter to hurry it up. She finally handed him his change and he nodded at her, heading quickly back the way he came from. He didn't bother trying to Apparate – that would just make him dizzier than he already was.

He found his way back to Harry flat easily enough and he let himself inside.

xxx

Harry picked up his wand and carefully murmured healing spells over the cuts on his arms. He heard the door open and Draco poked his head inside. Harry was grateful that he'd hidden the knife not a moment ago, after deciding that Draco made things too interesting for him to die. Yet.

"Are you going to eat or not?" he asked.

Harry nodded and walked out of the room.

xxx

Harry's friends did not know the extent of his feelings. They knew that he mourned Ginny, but they didn't know just how far he'd gone from simple grief. They thought he had loved her. They thought that if she had lived, he might've been happy. The truth was beyond them. They could never imagine that Harry hadn't loved Ginny; he'd simply assumed that he _should_ love her.

He hadn't loved her – he'd been drawn to her because she was convenient and deep inside himself he'd been afraid of the fiasco with Cho would occur once again. So he'd gone off to find the next girl. And who better than Ginny – she'd loved him for so long…

And then he'd found that she wasn't paying attention to him, but chasing all the boys and going through them like a knife through water. He'd kissed her and to his relief she had enjoyed his attentions.

He hadn't loved _her_ – he had loved the idea of being loved by her. And he knew it now – and it made him drown in guilt.

Ginny shouldn't have died for a boy who couldn't love her the way she deserved.

And it hurt – oh god, how it _hurt_ to think that he'd indirectly killed her. He'd broken up with her to avoid that, but it had happened anyway.

Harry's friends worried and wondered – although Luna Lovegood was the one who worried about him, it was Blaise Zabini that usually called him to check up on him. Luna was always too much of a wild spirit to actually call him. She wouldn't bother with ringing him up, she'd arrive at his doorstep, unannounced, with a wide smile and a brand new story she was working on for the paper. Luna had shocked most of the Wizarding World when she'd bought the Daily Prophet from whoever owned it. She combined the Quibbler and the Prophet together. She'd been smart enough to know that the Quibbler was rarely believed. But the Daily Prophet, most people believed it, so she'd made the Quibbler a section of the Daily Prophet. She had shocked many people when she'd announced that she was marrying the suspected Death Eater Blaise Zabini.

Yet, Harry's friends as a whole worried about him. They thought he was getting over it. They knew he still suffered, but they did not know the extent to which he'd let the wound that Ginny's death had ripped into his heart and soul fester.

It was Draco Malfoy who knew exactly just how badly Harry was hurting.

Draco merely watched Harry eat, however, not saying a word.

"What?" asked Harry, angrily.

"Nothing," said Draco. "Do you have a guest room?"

Harry nodded over to the living room. "The couch's a bed."

Draco didn't say anything to that.

Finally Harry said, "What do you want?"

"I want you to be okay," said Draco finally.

"You don't know the first thing about it."

"Oh, but I do, Harry," Draco said quietly. "I do know what you're feeling. I hope you survive it better than I did."

With that comment he left Harry sitting at the table, baffled.

* * *

– Terry Booth

* * *

A/N: the next few chapters are a little lighter than this… It's weird, because I wrote this and it feels like I didn't really _want_ to write about this issue…. Sigh…

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. Cutting, drugs… not really me at all. This is a challenge, to understand what I don't really understand at all. It's funny, because I researched it, but I just couldn't bring myself close enough to empathize the way I managed to do it with an eating disorder.

**Review Response:**

**animegurl088**

**JazzDancin'**

**Les Dowich:** Lol. I believe your teacher, that's why I'm still in school – otherwise I'd've left long ago. I hope I managed to portray this sort of thing properly… seeing as books and research can only do so much.

Glad you all reviewed! I didn't really expect anything, as I write first for my own entertainment and then my sister's, and then afterward, everyone else who's interested. So, I'm surprised, but happy I got some reviews… Um… I don't know if I mentioned it before, but this story is a total of twenty-four chapters, including the Prologue. It is not a work in progress, as I have the whole story all ready finished and ready to go. So, I hope you'll stick with me the whole way through. I also hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Keir the evil genius


	4. III: Blaming You

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Blame it on me

Set your guilt free"

**

* * *

**

Chapter III

**Blaming You**

At the end of the war, a list of names had been read. All the names of those who had died – on either side. The name Voldemort was on the list and it was read with a great deal of satisfaction and met with thunderous applause.

Yet, everyone cried at the other names. Harry had not been there when the name Draco Malfoy had been read. He'd been unconscious in the hospital wing. Nobody blamed him, but he blamed himself for the deaths of those he'd loved.

In a strange way, it was the way he felt. He felt as though it were his fault. It _was_ his fault.

xxx

Ron Weasley pondered what was different about Harry. He'd gotten drunk as usual, and Ron wondered how often Harry got drunk. Every Friday, Harry got drunk with him. But lately, Harry seemed slightly… off to Ron.

He'd forgiven Harry for the death of his sister. Molly Weasley had worried about Harry. Harry was alive. He wasn't dead and he'd survived. That was all that mattered. Ron knew, though, that that wasn't the way Harry saw it. He saw that it was his fault Ginny died while he lived. Harry believed that he should have died.

And that worried Ron. It had been eight years and he thought that Harry should get over Ginny sometime soon.

_But maybe he really did love her,_ Ron thought, sighing as he pressed the bridge of his nose. He went back to looking at the papers. He was trying to find Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy Manor had been taken four years ago, and Hermione had protested, but no one paid attention. They were out for blood.

Ron sighed yet again, before he pushed the papers away. He stood up and walked out the door, heading for Hermione's place.

xxx

Draco wrapped his cloak around himself a little tighter and hurried down the street. He'd shoved his hair under a bandanna. It was a dark blue, and when he'd stared at his reflection, with his translucent skin, it made him seem like he was dying of some kind of cancer. He saw his reflection on the glass, wondering if his cheeks were really that hollow, wondering if the angles of his face were really that sharp. Reaching upward to self-consciously check the bandanna, he noticed that his wrists seemed impossibly tiny. Fragile.

He looked bloody _fragile._ He didn't want to look fragile, but his hair stood out from the crowd too easily and he was in Diagon Alley, wondering what he was doing here.

He hurried over to the café that stood where the ice cream parlor had once stood.

"Can I help you?" asked a witch, looking up and down at him. She thought he looked awful, her eyes said, but he ignored it and said, "I'm looking for an Auror called Tonks."

"She's over there," the witch said, helpfully. Draco nodded and walked over to where she gestured. A woman with hair some shade of a neon color was sitting at the far table, sipping her drink and chatting with a man Draco recognized from his third year – Remus Lupin. He walked over to them and cleared his throat.

It was Lupin who saw him first and he dropped his paper, his face blanching.

Tonks stopped smiling, choking on her drink.

"Hello," said Draco, with a weak smile.

"You're alive!"

xxx

Harry was glad Draco was out of the house. He walked down the street and found a teenager pushing drugs on younger kids. Harry bought an ounce on a whim. He didn't really care – he needed a hit of something. He smoked it, enjoying the wonderful low. It wasn't a high, definitely not a high, but it made everything seem ridiculously funny.

He wondered, as he puffed away on the stolen cigarette, where the fuck Malfoy was.

Then he decided that he didn't really care.

xxx

"Are you sick?" Tonks gasped, looking at the very pale skin and at the bandanna. Draco had been pale as a young child, but he was far paler now.

"No," said Draco. "I'm not sick."

"Then why…?" Lupin gestured at the bandanna.

Draco shrugged. "I needed something to cover my hair with. It kinda stands out you know, so I grabbed whatever."

"You look like you've got cancer, you know that?" asked Tonks, recovering. "I mean, your skin – it's so pale! Where have you been? Under a rock or something?"

"Actually," said Draco with a sheepish smile, "I was hiding in Florida, mostly… I moved to Los Angeles. I heard the waves were good over there – especially over Cortes Bank."

"Surfing?" Tonks guessed.

"Yeah, and base jumping, sky-diving. If it defies death, you name it, and I've probably done it already."

"Sky-diving, really?" asked Lupin. "What's the purpose of sky-diving?"

Draco shrugged and began to explain what it was.

"So, if you've spent all this time in the sunlight, how come you're not darker? You're so… white!"

Draco laughed. "You sound like Blaise."

"Not Blaise Zabini? Tall black kid?"

"Zabini?" Tonks said, frowning. "Sounds familiar."

"He's Luna Lovegood's fiancé."

"Oh, I heard about that," said Draco. "I thought it was just a rumor."

"So, where else have you been, other than the states?"

"Australia," said Draco. "I was shooting pictures of the kangaroos."

"Really?"

"No." Draco laughed. "I was actually shooting more than just the kangaroos. I went to Africa, by the way. It was great! I think I used up an entire boxful of film on that trip. But aside from that… I've been all over the place."

"Doing what?" asked Tonks curiously. "You take pictures, you said."

"I did – until Sudan. That's when I joined a missionary…"

Lupin choked. "You joined… tell me you're not a priest!"

"Not exactly," said Draco, twisting the ring on his finger again. "I'm not a priest, exactly. I just go from place to place – or wherever they send me and help out for a bit."

"Help who out?" asked Tonks.

"Oh, the poor, I guess. In Africa it was at a refugee camp. I miss the African people. They're so nice – they're all very friendly. I loved it there. I think I'll go back there if, I can. I'm here for in London at the moment, until I leave, anyway."

"So what are you, anyway, if you're not a priest?"

"I'm a missionary," said Draco. "I mean, it's not about religion, it's about _doing_ something. Helping people out, and that's what I do. I was actually going to find the address of the place I should've reported to a few weeks ago when I arrived here. They'll be wondering where I am."

"Have you got a place to stay?" asked Tonks.

"Yeah, I've got a place right now."

"Ring us up if you need something," Lupin said.

Draco eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm not going to bite, you know. Besides, you seem fairly comfortable here with me."

"I am," said Draco sweetly. "Because your pretty girlfriend happens to be my cousin."

"Not that we were ever really close," said Tonks, regretfully. "We need to talk more often."

"Sure, why not," said Draco. "I'll be around. I just came to ask you what the deal with Harry Potter is right now. I mean, he survived the war and all that – big hotshot war hero and all that, right?"

"His girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, died. He loved her," said Lupin. "I mean, if he didn't love her, he might've gotten over it by now."

"Draco, don't go bothering him," said Tonks. "You can't treat him like you used to. He's… fragile – emotionally. We worry about him…."

"Hmmm," said Draco, noncommittally

xxx

Harry was getting over his drugged state when Draco came back.

"Please don't tell me you've got leukemia or something," said Harry, staring at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes, closing the door and tugging off the bandanna, letting his hair cascade down. He ruffled it up a little and Harry smiled, staring at Draco, thinking that when he looked like that…

"Do I really look that bad?" asked Draco, finally.

"No, it's that you're too pale… and more than a little too thin, actually."

"Hmmm," said Draco. "What about you? You don't look so hot yourself, you know. I mean bloodshot eyes, messed up hair." Draco frowned. "Although, you have to admit that your hair's never been your best feature… I think it's your eyes. They make you look sexy."

"Are you checking me out?" Harry said horrified.

Draco shrugged and headed off into the kitchen to make dinner.

xxx

The next day, it was all Harry could think about. Draco Malfoy had said his eyes made him look sexy.

He couldn't get his mind over it.

He lifted the bottle again, raising it to his lips, and downed some more. He coughed when he felt the fire burning down his throat. This was a bit stronger than his usual drink. With the exception of the times he'd been drunk, he usually drank the non-alcoholic drinks. It wasn't alcoholic enough to make him drunk. But lately, he'd been drinking the stronger stuff.

Sighing, he thought about Draco again. He wondered if Draco was gay. Harry knew he didn't care as long as there was a body underneath him, willing for a quick shag. He didn't care as long as they were warm and willing to sleep with him with no strings attached.

Finally the door opened and Harry stood and swayed slightly.

"Where've you been?" Harry slurred.

"I have a job, you know," said Draco looking at him severely.

"A job?"

"Well, it doesn't really _pay_ me," said Draco. "But sometimes I get money. It's not like I really need any, though."

"What do you do?"

"I work at a shelter for the domestically battered sometimes," said Draco finally. "The rest of the time… most of the time actually, I work over at a youth center where kids and teenagers, but mostly the teens, come and hang out. They can do whatever they want – play video games, billiards…" Draco smiled. "Or skateboard in the back. I've convinced them to make a mini-skate park in the back. The kids think I'm the coolest since I know how to ride a board."

"What?" asked Harry, flummoxed. He never in a million years would've suspected that Draco Malfoy would go and work in a _youth center_, let alone a _shelter_.

"They function with volunteers," Draco said helpfully. "Nobody really needed me, so they told me to come to London and talk to the locals here. I used to work in a mostly Muggle refugee camp."

"You're joking!"

"No," said Draco. "I know it seems unlikely, but I like it."

"Who are you and where's Draco Malfoy?"

"You mean Malfoy. You never really knew _me_ – Draco Malfoy. You knew Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's son."

Harry stared at Draco and had anyone asked him what was going through his head at the moment, he wouldn't have known how to respond.

The light buzz in his brain made things worse as he stared at the blonde. It occurred to Harry that Draco looked like a porcelain angel doll. He looked like he just needed to wear white and sprout wings to finish looking the part. Harry didn't wonder why Draco's face was suddenly closer to his. He leaned in and kissed Draco Malfoy.

For a moment, it seemed as though Harry was free. He had a warm body he could fuck so he didn't have to think about morning or the next day.

Then Draco shoved him backward. "I'm sorry," he said looking at Harry, sympathy shone in his silver eyes.

Harry stared at him. "But you – yesterday…"

"I used to be a photographer, Harry. Don't take it personally." Draco turned and walked away.

Harry stared at Draco's retreating back. _Don't take it personally_.

Draco Malfoy had finally grown up to become likeable, but he didn't like Harry in the same way. Harry knew that even if Draco _did_ like him, he probably wouldn't be willing to sleep with him.

It was an ironic sort of justice.

Draco turned to him. "If you really want somebody to blame, blame me. I can't like you the way you like me. It's my fault, really – not yours."

"All right," said Harry quietly. "I'll blame you."

"Okay then," said Draco. "But we're okay, right?"

Harry stared at him, before he cleared his throat and agreed, "We're okay."

* * *

– Evanescence

* * *

A/N: That was unplanned. I didn't plan for Draco to be involved with missionaries – although I did plan for Harry's attraction toward Draco, and Draco's not liking Harry the same way. Oh, and I realize that Harry makes no sense when he's thinking about Draco. The explanation for that is quite simple: Harry's drunk. (And he's high… but that's a one time thing. It won't surface again.) And this chapter pretty much sucks, but that's okay. I've made up my mind I'm not changing this story except to edit it. 

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

Missionaries. I don't really know how they work, but I know several missionaries. I've been invited to join… But never mind about that.

**Review Response:**

**Sarah123Babe**

**JazzDancin' **

Thanks for taking the time to review! I appreciate it, even if it's only a word or two. I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter.

Keir the evil genius


	5. IV: De die in diem

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"There is no royal road to anything, one thing at a time, all things in succession."

**

* * *

**

Chapter IV

**De die in diem**

Harry had agreed to go with Draco to the coast. Draco was taking pictures with a manual, rather than the fancy digital Harry had pictured Draco using when he said that he was a photographer.

"Smile, Harry!" Draco said and snapped Harry's picture.

"Why are you taking pictures of me?"

"I learned to like taking pictures of people when I was living in Los Angeles for a while, but really, I stared in Miami," said Draco, shrugging.

"Florida?" asked Harry in surprise.

"Yeah. Before Miami it was New Orleans. I miss it. They have voodoo stores, but they have great coffee shops, and they celebrate Mardi Gras in style. But Miami… there's no winter in Florida. The world is different in Miami. In the winter, it's _warm_, Harry. I remember the beach, standing in sand the color of cream and feeling a breeze moving in from the sea. I remember the bustle of the streets. It's a beautiful place. It gets kind of cold during hurricane season, but it's _beautiful_. It's a clash of nature and man. You should go there someday, Harry. There are places where nature still thrives, but then there are the places where the city gleams. There are places where the world is just so distance it's like a completely different world."

"I thought New York would be better for you."

"No. Montana," said Draco. "I loved Montana when I was there. Los Angeles is just kind of dark. The downtown parts just are flooded with people. They're good too, I guess – but I liked Hollywood more. It was full of people and people who knew about our world – Muggles! They knew about our world and they don't care. They're willing to believe it and make movies out of it. They told me in the Muggle world, magick passes off as fantasy. If a person believes in magick, they are called Wiccan and belong to that nature religion. Nobody cares anymore. My father was _wrong_ – we don't have to kill Muggles to hide. They're in love with Magick."

"You liked it there."

"I did," said Draco. "I loved Venice beach though. And the waves that break over the Cortes Bank just off the coast… I went deep-sea diving once. It's an amazing experience. The technology the Muggles have come with to survive without magick… I think there's no difference these days." Draco smiled and it seemed to Harry that Draco seemed to be filled with a kind of inner light that Harry could only watch from afar, a light he would never manage to touch. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magick. But they want the glamour – the old magickal world that they're told of in stories."  
Harry sighed. "It's getting dark, Draco. Let's go, all right. We can come back."

"No," said Draco, turning to look out once again at the ocean. "I'm not coming back here. I want to go everywhere." He glanced at Harry. "I'm only…"

"You're only what?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Draco. His smile seemed over bright to Harry, but he said nothing.

xxx

It seemed idyllic. Harry felt happy for the first time in years. Eight years and he knew it was because Draco dragged him out of the house nearly everyday. He dared Harry to ride a skateboard, but he fell and the kids at the youth center Draco dragged him to, laughed good-naturally.

"Hey, you're Harry Potter, yeah?" asked a kid with spiked up hair.

"Yeah," said Harry. "That's me."

"Draco talks about you all the time. He says you've been going through a hard time, so he's living with you for awhile. He really likes you."

Harry looked at the kid and then at Draco, who was laughing as a young girl waved her hands around, gesturing as she spoke animatedly. She was smiling up at him, and Harry knew that the girl felt the same way he did. Draco was so strange – he wasn't the way Harry remembered him. In fact, he wasn't the way that he would've thought Draco would be. He would've thought that Draco would be an evil little prat, mean and selfish. Perhaps there was a time that he had been. But now, Draco Malfoy had obviously grown up and become somebody that Harry wanted to be.

_He doesn't like me enough_, Harry thought, looking at the blonde.

"He really likes you," the boy repeated.

"I guess," said Harry with a vague smile. "He's a great guy."

"He's the best," the kid agreed. "I mean this place was going to the dogs, but then he walked in a week ago and everything's just looking good. He knows how to make you feel better."

Yet, for some reason, it made Harry upset that the boy would say that. But Harry had to admit that he'd been doing much better since Draco came along. He hadn't killed himself yet. And Draco made him get up every morning and actually eat something.

xxx

"I want to go visit Ginny's grave," Harry told Hermione.

Hermione Granger stared at him.

"Okay," she said, uncertainly. She wondered why Harry wanted to go and see Ginny's grave. She'd died eight years ago. Maybe his interest was a sign that he was moving on.

She hoped so.

xxx

Most people did not talk much about the graveyard of the war. It was a monument that had been erected in memory of the dead.

The more beautiful a grave was, the more likely that person had been somebody special to the light.

The "light" side had won, after all. It was they who could have what they wanted. Those that were simple belonged to the Death Eaters, or people who nobody really cared about. It was a rather depressing thought.

Ginevra Weasley's tombstone was among the prettiest. Flowers were on her grave for every season of the year. There were people who considered her some kind of saint, or an angel. They believed that she was the angel of lost love, perhaps. Or perhaps the guardian of loved ones. She had died for her lover, and that was the truth of it.

Over time, the story had grown about her. They began to say her love ran so deeply that she had given Harry her strength to help him defeat Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord to date.

Her story was the story of legends. It was the story of week, the legend of the century. It was the story that was passed on from mother to child. It was the proof of the power of love.

They looked at Harry and his inability to get over her and romanticized the way people romanticized Romeo and Juliet. If he committed suicide, they'd bless it in the name of love.

But the story was different.

Harry didn't love Ginny – and he never had. He'd only thought that he should. He had been attracted to her. He'd been looking for a warm, willing girl, and found her in Ginny. It wasn't anything more than lust. He had not fallen in love with Ginny when he did not know her. He could not love her because he did not know her. He had loved the idea of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

It was guilt that drove him. And it was his self-pity poisoned mind that made him seek mindless, meaningless sex with anyone who was willing.

It was the same self pity that drove him to attempt suicide. It was the same guilt he harbored for not loving Ginny enough, that he kept within himself like an ulcer within his soul.

What Harry did not know, but what Draco Malfoy might have been able to tell him, was that it seemed to be a tendency of human nature to make the dead seem better than what they really had been. It was something of a phenomenon that caused people to believe that their dead loved ones were much better than they truthfully had been while they were alive. It took death to take away the flaws everyone criticized.

To Harry's memory, he remembered Ginny being a wonderful person that deserved better than him. She had deserved _more_ than he was. Had Draco been there, he might have asked why. But Draco _wasn't_ there, and so Harry went on feeling sorry for himself, blaming himself.

Hermione pulled the car to a stop.

"Are you going to be all right, Harry?" she asked. "You seem awfully pale!"

"I'm – I'll be all right," he said and got out of the car. "Thanks for the lift. I'm sure I can make my way back home."

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione.

Harry nodded. "If not, I'll just Apparate."

"But you _hate_ Apparating!" Hermione said.

"It's all right, really."

Hermione bit her lip before she nodded. It was a personal thing Harry needed to take care of without her. There were many things that Harry needed to do by himself without her or Ron, and Hermione understood. She told herself that there was no need to hold it against him, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of vexation as she wondered why Harry had to do things alone. Didn't he _trust_ anyone?

xxx

Harry walked slowly to Ginny's grave. He spotted her name and traced it gently. He wanted to cry, but found that he had no tears to shed.

He stared at it for a long time and realized that it was unfair to Ginny. It was unfair to Ginny to sit there and think about what Draco Malfoy was doing at the moment. It was _unfair_.

_You take my heart to the angels, love_

Harry felt like he could not breathe. He felt like throwing up. He did what he could think of – he made a fist and punched the headstone before he began to cry bitterly.

It wasn't _true_. It wasn't fucking true.

"I HATE YOU!" he screamed. He instantly regretted and cried, "No, I don't. I don't… I hate _me…_ you don't deserve to be hated – you didn't deserve me. You wasted it on me, Ginny."

xxx

Max Reyes was trying to show Draco that he could do a frontside 180 pivot body varial. Draco smiled distractedly, thinking, no _feeling_ that Harry was somewhere he wasn't ready to be yet.

"Draco?" Max suddenly said. "Are you okay? You look really pale."

"Um…" Draco trailed off. Something was definitely _wrong_. It was all _wrong_.

"Melissa!" Max hollered to the other volunteer who had agreed to watch the "skater" kids, although she didn't know how to skateboard herself.

"What's wrong?" Melissa asked and then she saw Draco's face. "Drake, go home. You don't look well. I'll let them know you went home sick, all right?"

"Okay," said Draco. "Thanks!"

He made it to the street and ducked down an alley before he closed his eyes. For a moment the world was nothing more than a dizzying mess. It rushed by him – or rather, _he_ rushed by, but it seemed that it all rushed by him while he stood still. Then he stopped, so suddenly he almost fell on his face.

He liked Apparating, he decided.

Then he saw Harry.

xxx

Harry felt someone wrap their arms around him as he sobbed. It had been going well lately. He didn't understand why he was crying. It had been eight _years_. But Ginny deserved for someone to cry over her. She didn't deserve to be forgotten.

"Oh, Harry," Draco said. "You shouldn't have come."

"I should've come a long time ago."

"No," said Draco quietly. "You weren't ready. It's the same way I wasn't ready to see my mother dead when she died."

"Your mother died?" asked Harry, looking up at Draco.

Draco shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"When?" Harry pressed.

"After Dumbledore died…" Draco sighed. "He wasn't happy with me _or_ my father. Sometimes I think Lucius loved her more than he loved me. He… I think he did love her. Lucius and Narcissa. Mother loved me, but Lucius… he was like a favorite uncle. He spoiled me rotten, but couldn't care less. He loved Mother though, and when she died… he fell apart. For the longest time it fell to me to take care of him. Voldemort thought it was a good punishment for the both of us. My father had died in spirit and my mother was physically dead. Lucius would go off on these drunken rages and attack me. I still have some scars left over from the time he stabbed me with a fork. It would've been funnier if he'd stabbed with me with a spoon," Draco mused. He shrugged. "It's all right, you know. I left after the war, and never spoke to him. I don't think he's ready for me to talk to him."

"But what about you?"

Draco shrugged, "I'm okay with it now. I've lived my own way for a long time. I don't need him. I don't need anyone."

Harry looked at him, then at Ginny's grave. "I was happy and now I keep thinking I don't deserve to happy when Ginny's _dead_. I shouldn't be happy!"

Draco sighed and hugged him a little tighter. "You'll be okay, Harry. I promise."

"How do you know?"

"Well, as a friend of mine once put it when I fell into a funk, some days you're the dog, and some days you're the hydrant."

Harry snorted. "Sounds like an interesting friend."

"Yeah, he is." Draco smiled. "Come on. Let's get you home."

"I'm not going to be okay, Draco," Harry whispered. "I can't – I just _can't_…"

"Yes you can," Draco said. "And if you can't, then I guess we'll bury you with Ginny."

xxx

"I can't _believe_ you took him to Ginny's grave!" Ron exploded for the millionth time. "You should've known better! Didn't I tell you he was acting all weird lately? What if he's committing suicide?"

"It'll be my fault if he commits suicide," Hermione said, trying to keep her cool. She was thought of as the Auror who kept a cool head in fiasco – where was her coolness now? Out the window apparently.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove through the cemetery gates. This graveyard was accessible to certain Muggles – the parents of the Muggle-borns who had died and a selected few relatives, so her car had access to the graveyard.

Ron and Hermione all but jumped out of the vehicle, barely taking care to park the car properly. They ran to Ginny's grave and stopped short. Harry was crouched in front of the grave and someone dressed in white hugged him as he cried. Then suddenly they were gone, the lingering crack of Apparation rang through their ears.

"Who was _that_?" asked Ron, but Hermione, for once, didn't have the answers.

* * *

– _Josiah Gilbert Holland_

* * *

A/N: That's Latin for… who can tell me what it means? (If nobody figures it out, I'll just translate at the end of next chapter…) 

As for the chapter…there's not much action – because it hasn't gotten bad yet. But it will. Anyway, I don't like the way Draco's described in this chapter…. Oh, I really don't like this story…

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magick – Arthur C. Clarke

2. "Some days you're the dog, and some days you're the hydrant." – Unknown

3. Just as a side note, the frontside 180 pivot body varial: do a nose manuel (is that _spelled_ right?) – just remember not to let the nose touch the ground – and go 180 before doing varial and pretty much ending up where you started out. If you don't skateboard, I probably make no sense. On the other hand, it's been ages since I got on a board to the point I can barely remember these things! But I think that's how it goes.

**Review Response:**

**scrivania**: I don't think I ever say his actual sexuality, but I think it's implied.

**wicked-nightmare**

**5mOk3y**

Anyway, thanks for reviewing! I have to run, so can't say much here. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, review if you wish (no, no threatening to hold back chapters for me. That gets kind of annoying, doesn't it?). Remember to be kind for you never know when you'll run into a Messenger! (Elohim, angels, Powers that Be, God, etc.)

Keir


	6. V: Ami

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"We are not enemies, but friends."

**

* * *

**

Chapter V

**Ami**

Voldemort had taken over almost everything. It seemed absolutely hopeless, but everyone on Harry's side believed in him.

There are a great deal of many things that decide who will be the victor in a war. The first is a cause. Never underestimate the power of a cause. And never underestimate the power of a martyr. Albus Dumbledore had become the martyr for their cause. Their cause was simply to survive. It was a matter of survival.

Harry broke up with Ginny because he had read those old stories in which the villain takes away the loved one of the hero. He denied it, but he considered himself the hero of his own story.

He was just as unwilling as Odysseus had been when he was called to war. He was just as determined as the greatest of the heroes in the world. He was the character legends were made about. He was brave, he was loyal, and he was noble. He was on a quest and he was loved by something beyond the ordinary world. He wasn't a hero. Forget a hero-ship. He wasn't a member of the hero club. He was member of the _epic_ hero-club.

Not that many wizards knew it, but those who read a great deal might have realized but real life always seems a little bit gloomier than the life of a hero in a story. It was for the simple reason that real life affected you personally. And so, nobody ever thought that Harry Potter was an epic hero.

Nobody ever realized that the world was what they created it.

Fear preys within the minds of even the bravest. It was a strange thought, one that required fear to be given a name before it had power. Fear was a shapeless thing, something that bore no name or shape. The Dementors were shapeless and they were the embodiment of fear itself.

When Harry Potter woke up, he didn't think about the fact he might or might've not been an epic hero. He thought about fear.

He thought that Draco Malfoy was sick of him and had left him to rot.

But Draco Malfoy had _not_ left him to die. He was sitting on a bench at the shelter, as the Youth Center told him to go away – he looked sick, and musing on the facts of epic heroes and Harry Potter.

He knew that all the legendary heroes had at one point been real. He knew that they had all survived what were considered the worst of times in their lifetime. He also mused about fear. He was afraid that he'd fail in what he'd set out to do.

His mission was simple – do whatever was best for Harry Potter including letting him die if that was what would turn out to be the best course of action. It was about mercy, not selfish desires. Yet it was about himself, in a sense, because everyone has a degree of avarice and sense of self-preservation. Draco Malfoy wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of the world. He wanted to prove that he could be good. For eight years, he'd worked in making up – in repenting the misspent youth he'd led.

For every action he'd asked for forgiveness for all his sins and his family's sins. He asked for Lucius to find himself somewhere within himself. He hoped that his father would find his peace, but he knew it wouldn't be that simple. It never was that simple.

And he amused himself at comparing his life with those of the epic heroes in the great works of literature. He was definitely on a quest, albeit a self-made one, but a quest nonetheless. But he didn't know if he was loyal or noble. He sure as hell wasn't brave. Draco Malfoy had never been brave and he rather thought that he never would be brave. Slytherin wasn't the house of bravery, after all. It was the house for the embittered philosophers. For those who became jaded long before their time because they learned and saw members of their own society fall prey to the mistakes the prior society had fallen. Voldemort had not learned to be evil by being born evil. He had learned it at a young age, observing the world around him. He had seen that world simply existed. It was neither evil nor good. The words evil and good were merely words that were part of a human language, which was a human invention. He saw that there was power. He didn't see what was wrong with simply taking power. Tom Riddle had felt the world owed him something for having a dead mother and a father who had hated him before he was born.

It had injured his pride because he'd so wanted a father that would love him. He'd so wanted a father that would be a greater mother than his own mother had been. He wanted to be great. It had been a simple ambition. He hadn't _meant_ to be evil. Yet in some way, the world had jaded him, corrupted him and he, for all his cleverness, had failed to notice it. Tom Riddle had feared death – and in the end, it had won him over – that madness within him. Death had become synonymous with Harry Potter, the boy who had nearly killed him.

Draco knew this – and he silently asked for Tom Riddle's sins to be forgiven as he smiled at a young girl, saying quietly, "You'll be all right now. Nobody's going to hurt you here." She looked at him and believed him.

It was the flaw with the world. Yet faith was also the world's greatest gift.

The girl told him about her father.

And he thought of his own, who had never abused him, but who had never loved him because he wasn't his mother.

Draco Malfoy was human after all. The thought amused him to no end because Draco Malfoy was supposed to be long since dead and buried. He knew that much because he'd walked along the gravesites of those who died. He'd seen his mother's gravestone. It was elegantly simple and it wasn't as overgrown as the rest. It was in the Malfoy section of the cemetery. And it had left him laughing for hours until his laughter turned into sobs when he saw his own grave. He had not bothered to attend his own funeral, and he wondered if anyone had.

Draco Malfoy was hated, feared, but never loved. He had never been taught to love. And he now silently offered up his veins to the heavens in atonement for his sins.

He hoped he could be forgiven before…before he left.

xxx

While Draco Malfoy was trying to find redemption Lucius Malfoy was trying to plan out revenge.

Revenge is the sweetest honey on the earth. It curls into the stomach and warms the heart, burning it. But for those so consumed with hatred and anger, it feels like the buzz of love.

Lucius Malfoy was well aware who had had killed his bride. He knew – Voldemort – Tom Riddle. He had destroyed everything he'd laid his hands on that belonged to Tom Riddle or had once belonged to Tom Riddle. He was, ironically, helping Harry Potter ensure that Voldemort never rose from the dead ever again.

His face twisted as a demented smile grew on his face as he dipped his feathered quill into the inkwell and crossed out a name. Soon… Soon, everyone that had directly or indirectly killed his wife would die.

Smiling he went out to his wife's grave. He didn't look at his son's grave. He didn't care. Draco Malfoy could have been a stranger for all Lucius Malfoy cared.

"You'll be avenged," he whispered as he kneeled and kissed Narcissa Malfoy's name.

xxx

Draco walked back to Harry's flat slowly. He paused when he saw a tall black girl standing there with a redhead, who was obviously a Weasley.

"He's not expecting us, Fred. I think we should've asked him – I mean what if he's not home?"

Draco hesitated before he shrugged. The worst that would happen would be that one of them – if not both of them, would faint at the sight of him, back from the dead.

He walked toward them. His feet didn't make a sound on the floor, but then again, they never had. He'd learned it the hard way it was much better to not be heard when he was coming. The last time his footfalls had made sound, he'd been smacked across the face and had his shoulder dislocated. His father had been furious, Draco remembered. The memory of his father's anger made him wonder if he _had_ loved him. He'd been angry with… who had hit him across the face as a child, he wondered. He couldn't remember who it was, but he knew that Lucius had made sure that whoever it was had never seen him again.

He blinked in surprise when he found himself standing behind the two people he now recognized. Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson – they had gone to the Yule Ball together in year four, he remembered. He'd been so angry, so upset that he couldn't be the one in the spotlight – yet _again_. He was so spitting mad that he hadn't worn the dress robes his mother had lovingly packed into his bags and worn instead a transfigured set of school robes made to look like dress robes, but ended up making him look like the vicar.

He almost laughed before he reminded himself, yet again touching his ring, that he _wasn't_ a priest or anything else. He was a missionary. He wasn't the leader of a missionary, but he had been before he'd let them convince him he needed a break that wasn't the weekend spent surfing or skateboarding around Venice beach. Or when he'd been in Miami that it wasn't while he'd been escaping civilization into the parts of Florida that were almost a completely different world.

He was here now, on what supposed to be his vacation, but he wondered if it was. He wondered if he could abruptly stop doing what he'd been doing for eight years.

He cleared his throat and Angelina Johnson turned to look at him.

Draco wondered why he'd worn white for possibly the billionth time. Black looked so much better on him.

"Who are you?" asked Angelina, looking at him up and down.

"Bloody hell," said Fred. "You're supposed to be dead, Malfoy!"

"_What?_"

"Goddammit," Draco said, looking at Harry's horrified face.

"You're supposed to be dead? How? When?"

"I've been, ah, gone for a long time, Harry. Of course they'd presume I was dead. I was expecting it actually."

"But your wand," Fred said. "They found your broken wand near Voldemort's body – a few paces away, actually. They found ashes… like somebody had been burned alive… They said it was …."

Draco shrugged. "I broke my own wand. I… I don't belong to your world anymore." He pushed by them and went inside the apartment.

Harry followed him, looking betrayed.

"Harry, it's no big deal that everyone thinks I'm dead!"

"It's a big deal to _me_," said Harry. "I mean, now I'm guilty of not informing people of the correct information! I'm guilty of not reporting you!"

"I'm not going back," said Draco. "I left the Wiz – I left _that_ world a long time ago and I'm not going through it again. I won't go through it again. Think of what it would do to _me_! I'm the goddamned Malfoy heir, I've got fortunes upon fortunes due to me and I couldn't give a fuck about them. You announce it to the world I'm alive, and I'm gone before they get it on the papers."

"Wow," said Fred. "You've changed, haven't you, Malfoy." Fred studied him and then said, "Are you sick or something?"

"He has leukemia," said Harry without batting an eye.

"I do not," said Draco, glaring at Harry. "You're just saying that because that one time I wore that stupid bandanna."

"Do you or do you not?"

"I don't," said Draco looking at Angelina. "I'm a pureblood wizard, you know. Cancer's a muggle disease mostly. It's rare for a witch or wizard to get without any Muggle blood within the family. Half-bloods get the usual run of Muggle diseases, but purebloods are mostly exempt, with the exception of the common cold. Everyone gets _that._"

"But you're so _pale!_" said Angelina, picking up Draco's hand, despite his protesting that it was still _attached _thank you very much.

"I can see your veins, Malfoy! Are you _sure_ you're not sick?"

"Oh for god's sake, leave me alone," said Draco. "I'm _fine_, all right?"

"Maybe he's been living in the dark," suggested Fred.

"Actually," said Harry. "He's a bloody surfer. Of all things – a surfer!"

"A what?"

"A surfer – as in a surfboard?" Draco said slowly, looking a Fred, who only looked at him blankly. Draco sighed and explained, "It's a Muggle sport in which you take a board – it's rather long, and you swim out into the ocean for a bit and find a good wave and then you jump on the board and ride the wave."

"Surfer?"

"Surfboarding is the actual name of the sport. I rather enjoy it."

"And it requires long periods of time in the sunlight, unless of course you've been going to the ocean at midnight."

"No," said Draco. "I've been out in the sun for eight years. I'm not sure why I don't tan, but my hair's gotten whiter – it's been bleached by the sun."

"Whiter?" Angelina said in amusement. "I'd've thought you would've said blonder."

"Well, I got used to it," said Draco. "It's _white_ – my mother insisted it was a very lovely shade of yellow. I told her I had an old man's hair. Lucius told me that at least I never had to worry about getting white hairs. But I _do_ get white hairs." Draco reached up and pulled a few strands of hair and glared at them. "See? There's a _white_ hair!"

Harry burst out laughing and Draco smiled smugly, looking pleased.

Angelina and Fred exchanged a look, before looking back at the two boys.

"Are you guys… you know… dating?"

"Ah… no," said Draco, sounding apologetic.

Harry stopped laughing and shook his head. He seemed sad and Fred regretted asking the question instantly.

"So… you're not dating?"

"No," said Harry.

Draco lifted his hand and became fascinated by his fingernails.

"Are you married?" asked Harry, suddenly spotting the ring.

Fred and Angelina looked at the ring as well.

Draco shook his head. He simply said, "I'm a missionary."

"Like a _priest_?" asked Harry sounding and looking absolutely horrified.

Draco shook his head ruefully. "Why does everyone ask me that? I mean it's either 'are you _gay_?' or 'are you a _priest_?' For god's sake people, make up your minds on which one is worse!"

Fred, Angelina, and Harry stared at him.

"I'm not a priest, for your information. This," Draco held out the ring, "is a reminder of the promise I made to myself."

"Which was?"

Draco smiled brightly, "I'll pay for every sin my family has ever committed before I do anything else."

"What?" three voices asked, "Why?"

It was Fred who finally said, "Malfoy… you can't pay for every sin you _think_ your family's committed. It's not fair to you! I mean… look at _you_…If Lavender Brown had suggested it now that you look like an angel, I might actually give it thought."

"Really?" asked Draco, raising an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "Everything. I think you've become good, Draco. Maybe a little _too_ good, if you know what I'm saying."

"No, I don't," said Draco simply. "Besides, I _like_ doing what I do."

"That's the problem," said Harry. "You've become an angel."

"I know," said Draco. "I'm _your_ guardian angel, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I meant in the sense you're _good_, you moron. I'm sure God would worry about his own sanity if you _were_ a guardian angel."

"Probably," Draco agreed. "But that doesn't stop me from trying."

Fred decided that Harry would be okay as long as Draco Malfoy were around to keep him company.

"Well," said Angelina. "We've got to go and pick up Mandy… We'll see you soon, right?"

"Yeah, sure," said Harry.

"_You_ believe me that I'm Harry's guardian angel, don't you?

"I believe you're an annoying prat trying to _pretend_ to be an angel," said Fred.

Harry burst out laughing at the look on Draco's face.

xxx

"Hey, Draco," Harry asked later that night. "What are we now?"

"We're not enemies," Draco said finally. "Eat up, Potter, you're still too skinny."

"You should talk. _You're_ not eating."

"I'm fasting," said Draco without batting an eye.

"You're _what_?"

"Exactly."

"Malfoy, you're so _weird_."

"Who else would stand you?"

* * *

– Abraham Lincoln

* * *

A/N: I was told "Ami" means friend in French. I don't know if this is true or not, but I hope it is. Sorry if it it's not. I hate the ending of this chapter, though. I don't like this at all… And Lucius Malfoy never really amounts to much. I've been wondering if I should just put this story up in one go… or should I just update every week or so, until it's done? 

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. Well, obviously the epic hero stuff.

**Review Response:**

**Sarah123Babe**

**caz-felton-malfoy**

Thanks for taking the time to review! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think. Feel free to ask questions and if they're not answered in the story, then I'll do my best to answer them.

Thanks

Keir

P.S. Did anyone guess the meaning of the last chapter's title?


	7. VI: A Setback

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Seeing death is more than a brink of insanity,  
It's deep, dismal prison in which to hide,  
It makes dreaming about death like ice cream.  
We are not crazy, we are our senses amplified."

**

* * *

**

Chapter VI

**A Setback**

Draco stood toward the back of the building, watching the kids.

Draco wondered what kind of people they'd become. There was one thing that Draco had learned in his life – teenagers thought that they knew everything. It was the same everywhere a person went. In some places, teenagers were more innocent than in other places. Draco wondered what the teenagers that were spending their time playing video games, working on computers, skateboarding, or doing the things the youth center had to offer would do when they finally grew up.

He was only there for a moment in their lives. He would never be there for an incredibly long time. He was only there for a short time in their lifetime. And he wondered who they would become. He wondered if he did something, if it would affect the way these teens lived their lives for the rest of the time they had allotted to them.

He knew that he was in contact with the future of the world.

"Draco – Mel wants me to – are you _smoking_?"

"No!" said Draco, dropping the cigarette and crushing it underneath his heel.

"Yes, you were," said the boy. His name was Jordan Claxton, and he was looking a bit disappointed.

"Sorry," Draco apologized. "It's an old bad habit from my teenage years." He eyed the boy and said, "Promise me you'll never smoke, all right? I quit a few years ago… but I guess I'm just stressed out."

"So even you have a vice, huh?"

"Did you think I was perfect?" asked Draco.

"I guess. You _look_ perfect… like an angel."

"Hmm," said Draco, frowning as he recalled Fred Weasley's comment. "Well, at least somebody agrees."

"Who said you didn't?"

"Oh, an old friend of a friend. He said I was an annoying prat pretending to be an angel."

"Really? You're not annoying."

"No, but Fred's known me since I was eleven, so I guess I'm still the little kid who tried everything to get him and his siblings into trouble."

"Did you go to school here?" asked Jordan, suddenly.

"In Scotland," said Draco, shrugging. "My parents shipped me off to a boarding school since I was eleven. I was so excited when I got my acceptance letter. My whole family had gone to that school, and I wanted to go there so badly..." Draco shrugged again. "It wasn't really what I thought it would be."

"Oh," said Jordan. "You seem… I don't know… you don't act like you're from London."

"I'm from Wiltshire, actually," Draco explained. "I grew up near Bath in a goddamned mansion. I was one of those stuck-up rich kids that have everything. It was a rather strange experience, I guess. Then when I was seventeen, I ran away from home and bought a one-way ticket to a tiny country. It was one of those countries in Central America. It's another world there. The cities are crowded beyond belief, but their country is covered with beautiful wildlife. They're very poor in that country and most of them speak Spanish. The educated people speak English, but not a lot of English… After that, I drifted on toward South America and ended up exploring the Amazon. I ended up becoming a freelance photographer."

"That sounds awesome!" said Jordan. Draco shrugged, and went over to sit on a worn, but comfy couch. Jordan seemed slightly surprised, as though he hadn't realized they'd come back inside the center.

"I guess. I went to Australia after that, and then to Indonesia, and Palestine. I was happy, I guess, but I was just sort of drifting. I drifted off into Rome before I ended up in Venice. I left then, after a while bought a ticket to the States – New Orleans. I drifted off toward Montana before I decided to go back to where I'd been before. I headed out for Athens in Greece. I stayed about a week and somehow made my way toward Paris."

"Wow… you've lived such an awesome life!"

"Not really," said Draco, shaking his head. "At least I didn't begin to enjoy it until I was in Sudan – in Africa. I joined the missionaries there at a refugee camp. I stayed there until I was nearly twenty-four. Then I sort of wandered around the globe."

"That sounds like a dream life. I'd love a life like that!" said Jordan.

"Not really," said Draco. "It's lonely, Jordan. And sometimes it's frustrating. I mean, not having enough money to eat something, wondering where you're going to sleep the next day… It's not really a great life. It's lonely and I guess it takes a certain type of person to enjoy that kind of life. I was a solitary kind of person – I never got on with people well. Either they abused me or I bullied them." Draco sighed, recalling Neville Longbottom. "The kids at the boarding school I went to gave me the reputation for being one of the biggest bullies around. I think I must've terrorized many of the kids I might've been friends with."

"I don't believe that," Jordan said. "You could never be a bully."

Draco shook his head. "Funny. There are some people who honestly believe I could never be anything else."

xxx

Blaise Zabini had managed to figure out where Draco spent his days. And he stopped in front of the building, eyeing it uncertainly. It wasn't shabby, but it had an impersonal air, despite the futile attempts at giving it a homey outward appearance. Yet, when he walked into the building, he realized that they'd been successful on the inside.

"Can I help you?" asked a young male. Blaise judged that the Muggle was probably around twenty-one.

"I'm looking for Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" asked the Muggle. Then his expression cleared, "Draco! Oh, yeah. He'll be over there somewhere."

Blaise bemusedly followed the direction in which the kid had vaguely waved in.

"You could never be a bully," a teenage boy said earnestly, looking at Draco. Blaise took his time in taking a look at his old friend. Draco's skin was paler, making Blaise wonder if Draco were sick or something. He was thinner than the last time Blaise had seen him, which had been nearly six months before the final battle. Draco's hair was a bit longer than it had been and it was no longer slicked back, instead it hung freely. It was lighter, even. Draco made an unearthly picture, sitting there, with his luminous gray eyes and pale skin.

"Funny. There are some people who honestly believe I could never be anything else," Draco muttered.

"Especially _not_ the good guy. I mean, really, Malfoy," Blaise said. "You the good guy? Not in a million years."

"Blaise!" Draco exclaimed, jumping up and hugging him, startling him.

"Well, that was unexpected," said Blaise. "And what have you been doing? Are you _sick_ – you're so _pale_?"

"Everyone says that," Draco sighed. "I'm not sick. I don't know why I'm paler than I used to be."

"I was wrong," said Blaise. "You weren't that white back when we were kids. You're _white_ now."

"I'm translucent – like a ghost," said Draco and there was a gleam of unexpected humor in Draco's gray eyes, which Blaise suddenly realized weren't really luminous – it had been a trick of the light.

Blaise wondered what the joke was – he didn't see anything funny in that most of the people in their world would think that Draco Malfoy was back from the dead.

But Draco apparently did, as his eyes sparkled with unhidden mirth.

"So, where've you been? I hear you're marrying Luna Lovegood! God, that girl! She's bought out the biggest newspaper in t – in _our_ town."

"Yeah," said Blaise. "I mean, I knew there was a reason she was in – you know… She's smart."

"Oh, yeah." Draco looked at the boy. "This is Jordan Claxton. Jordan, this is Blaise Zabini. I used to call him Zabini, back when I believed that using first names was improper. Besides, I've got a really cool last name – Malfoy. It's _French_."

"Oh, Draco," said Blaise with a sigh. "You're still crazy, aren't you?"

"That's what Harry says," Draco agreed happily. "Well, he says I'm _weird_, but then again, so's he. I mean… really, what kind of person has _that_ much money and chooses to live in a dump?"

"Harry? As in Harry _Potter_?" Blaise started laughing. "Draco, you realize that Seamus Finnigan had a bet going on in our sixth year that you and Harry Potter were gay lovers, right? If he finds out you're living together, he's going to demand payment from everyone who bet against him."

"Oh, yeah. _That_ bet. Who won, anyway?" asked Draco.

"You're _gay_?" asked Jordan, looking horrified.

"As if! I had a girlfriend you know." Draco scoffed, before he frowned. "So, have you to talked to Pansy lately?"

"Draco…" Blaise sighed. "Pansy disappeared six years ago. She was last seen in Egypt. Last I heard, she was looking for you. She didn't believe that you were dead."

"People think you're dead?" asked Jordan.

"Well, I ran away when I was seventeen, so I'm basically missing and presumed dead, as they obviously never found a body."

"And they actually thought you were dead pretty quickly. I mean, you disappeared after – after that accident and nobody saw you ever again. You didn't even call me. If you hadn't told me beforehand that you were going to leave, I wouldn't have known you were still alive somewhere – that it was just you faking your own death or something."

"Or something," Draco muttered. He looked at Jordan and said, "Do mind telling Melissa I need to go?"

"Oh!" said Jordan, suddenly recalling what he'd gone to tell Draco. "Melissa told me to tell you to go home. She thinks you're depressed."

"_What_!" Draco exclaimed. "Since when?"

"I dunno, Draco," said Blaise. "You've always been a little _out there_, y'know… I mean, a little too emotional. Emo, I guess they'd call you. You used wear all black and half of the people at school took bets on whether or not you were… you know… cutting."

"Emo!" Draco said.

"Yeah, emo," said Blaise. "I mean, you kind of seemed to be the kind of kid that was either abused by your parents or just self-abused because you felt a need for pain."

"Blaise, I _hate_ pain!" Draco said, astonished. "I really can't stand the sight of blood and you thought I _cut_ myself? I pass out when I see my own blood. I can't stand it."

"Well… you were all depressed and anorexic in sixth year."

"I'm _not_ anorexic," Draco spluttered.

"I didn't say you are," Blaise said. "I just said that you _were_ in sixth year."

"I was a _wreck_ in sixth year," Draco said. "You know that. You know exactly what was going on – I mean, that's the reason I ran away."

Blaise nodded. "Yeah, but not everybody knew that. And then you disappeared… well, everyone pretty much figured you were dead."

"Whatever. I'm not depressed, or emo, or even suicidally inclined. I'm happy."

When both Jordan and Blaise looked at him with equal expressions of skepticism, Draco added, waving his hands. "You know, _happy_, as in the opposite of depressed?"

Blaise shook his head. "You know, for some strange reason I actually believe you – for once."

"What_ever_," said Draco.

xxx

Harry had fallen into a blue funk. It wasn't intentional. He'd been happy as he'd made himself some food when he saw a picture. He'd forgotten all about it, but Ginny was laughing, her eyes shining happily at him. He'd had his arms wrapped around her and he was smiling in the way he hadn't smiled for so long.

He glared at the picture.

Ginny was _dead_.

He couldn't get over it. Draco had told him he sounded like a broken record. It wasn't anybody's fault Ginny died.

And he remembered Draco's words – that if he didn't survive this, then they'd bury him with Ginny.

And suddenly he _wanted_ to be buried with Ginny.

The day seemed too dark. It seemed like the world couldn't let him be happy. He'd gotten a call from Hermione asking why he'd left so suddenly – why hadn't he called her! And who was that guy? Did he have a boyfriend?

And it reminded him of kissing Draco, but Draco didn't like him like _that_ and he recalled the way he said _don't take it personally._

The day was just going badly. He couldn't explain what it was or _why_ – but it was too much. Ron called him telling him to get his act together because he'd forgotten that it was Mandy's birthday and made her cry when he hadn't shown up. Fred was upset, but Angelina seemed to think it had something to do with his new friend. He put such emphasis on the word _friend_ that it killed him.

Then Seamus had come by and told him of some new girl he'd met. He'd talked about his lovers like they were nothing and suddenly Harry realized that he was just like Seamus. He was just sleeping with anybody who spread their legs.

Harry wondered if there was anything that he did that actually _meant_ something. He felt lost – he didn't have anything to do. He was practically worthless. He didn't have a job. He didn't do _anything_. He just sat there and did nothing. He was completely worthless.

To anyone watching Harry think, his reasoning would not have made sense. It would not make sense how it could make him feel as though there were no way out of his life.

And when Harry picked up the knife and cut along his arms, wanting the pain – needing it because it made him _stop **thinking**_ about the things that made him feel so – he cut deeper.

He didn't want to feel this way. All his troubles just went _away_ as the blood seeped out of him.

The throbbing on his wrists made it seem so much _better_ – he was _focused_ on the _pain_ and nothing else. He felt like he was something when he felt the pain. He sighed in relief, because as he watched his blood seep out it stopped.

It.

All.

Just.

_ Stopped_.

And there was bliss.

xxx

When Draco came home, he found Harry sitting in the bathroom, staring blankly at his arms as they dripped blood down onto the floor.

"Harry?" Draco whispered, horrified. He'd thought that Harry had been doing so much better.

"It won't stop," said Harry quietly. "I don't know why it won't just _stop_."

"Let's get this cleaned up," said Draco finally. "Come on, Harry."

xxx

Draco sighed as he stood on the balcony. He sighed and pulled out a cigarette. He couldn't deal with this. Harry was acting so strangely. He'd been happy, Draco knew that much. Harry had seemed happy – he'd seemed content, like he was moving forward and now he'd taken a step backward. Draco fumbled with the lighter as he lit the cigarette, absently noticing that he was running low. He frowned.

_Goddammit_, Draco seethed. Harry had been in his stash. Draco hadn't been smoking enough lately to have used up this much.

He angrily took in the smoke, holding it inside, before he breathed it out, watching it furl out into the air.

By the time he'd lit a new cigarette from his old one he realized he was chain-smoking.

Draco sighed, wondering when his life had become so screwed up. He wondered if maybe that was why Melissa had thought he was depressed.

Draco then thought about Harry, wondering what he was going to do now.

He hoped that Harry hadn't cut before. He _really_, really hoped Harry hadn't cut before and that this was just a temporary setback.

_Why not just let him die, if he really wants to die that badly?_ Draco shivered and angrily crushed his cigarette before walking back inside the apartment.

* * *

– Meg Brown

* * *

A/N: Oh, I really don't like this. It's not emotionally right… I don't think this is accurate or even right. I'm sorry if I've gotten it nearly as wrong as I think it is. I think it's because at this point in my life, I just don't comprehend _why_ people would hurt themselves… On the other hand, it doesn't stop me from trying to understand… 

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. A commentary on the chapter quote. Seeing death changes a person. Watching someone die changes the very being of a person. I have seen death, but I've never watched anyone die. That is, I've seen dead bodies, but I wasn't present at the moment of said persons' death, and I thank God for that. What was left of them wasn't pretty, to say the least.

**Review Response:**

**Sarah123Babe**: Thanks for taking the time to review! Die is the Latin word for day, so it basically means "from day to day".

**JazzDancin'**: I am a slash writer, I suppose, as more stories I have up feature a Harry/Draco pairing, with the exception of one or two. However, this story isn't really a slash in the sense of the word. It's sort of strange, but in my mind, if Harry and Draco had been able to, then they would have gotten together in this story. Yet, considering the way this story ends, a true Harry/Draco slash story wouldn't have worked. It's unrequited love… I see no harm in informing you that it is not a one-sided love. Draco, as it was mentioned in the prologue, loves Harry back. Yet, Harry might only be infatuated with him. He likes him, as I mention that in the story many times. Draco… well, everything depends on the ending. So, in response to your question whether or not it is a slash – it's really up to you – a statement that will probably make more sense when this story ends.

Anyway, for everyone else who's reading this… this is the last update you'll get from me in a while. Reason: I've got three major projects due. And although I really wish I had the time to do everything, I do not. So… if you've got questions, or want to comment, or whatever, leave a review. However, you still don't have to review to get an update, as tempting as it is to say that I will. Either I update or not, reviews have nothing to do with it.


	8. VII: Help

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"If I can ease one life the aching

Or cool one pain…

I shall not live in vain"

**

* * *

**

Chapter VII

**Help**

Draco wondered what he could do for Harry. There really wasn't much he _could_ do. He sipped on his glass of water.

For a moment he thought briefly of the ocean. He loved the ocean. He loved the way the water felt against his skin – the way the water surrounded him so completely to the point he might be able to lose himself within the water. He closed his eyes and recalled that cold spray of water as he was balancing on a surfboard, with the wave curving overhead and crashing down back onto the water right at his heels.

He sighed, looking at the glass of clear water. He wasn't bothered by the water and he wished it would rain _right now_ so he could go and get soaked. But it seemed like it was a dry season this year – not an iota of rain thus far, or at least not since he'd been there. There'd been a light drizzle in the early morning hours, but the hot sun burned the cold mornings away.

He glanced at his arm, right where the sun was supposed to be warming him up, but the sunlight didn't seem to touch him. He could not feel its warmth. Draco wondered if he ever would feel the sunlight warming his skin. He rather thought not.

He glanced again in the direction of Harry's bedroom. He'd bandaged up Harry's wrist and he'd wondered yet again why he didn't just walk out of the bathroom when he saw Harry bleeding slowly all over the floor. He'd nicked the topside of a vein – not deeply enough to be considered a suicide attempt, but deep enough that it could've become serious if left alone. Draco was glad Harry hadn't gotten an artery.

Draco glanced down at his flawless bare arms, the fine hair so light it seemed as though his arms were hairless. Yet he could see the scars on his arms, twisting and winding this way and that. He could see, on the inside of his left arm an echo of the old scar that had burned into his skin, binding him to a foul evil fool. Yet when he blinked, the scars were gone and his arms were flawless again – without any Dark Mark – without anything to blemish the translucence of his skin. Draco wondered if he'd be able to see right through himself if he looked hard enough. Shuddering, he shoved down the sleeves of his sweater robes, hiding the translucent skin under long gray sleeves.

He set the glass down suddenly noticing it was still in his hand.

Draco stood up and walked to Harry's room with a smile pasted on his face. And as he yanked the door open after a brief knock, and calling out to Harry in a cheerful tone, he wondered why he bothered. He should just leave Harry alone. It was none of his business, after all. He had never been friends with Ginevra or Harry, after all. He owed them absolutely nothing. Then he remembered Harry kissing him so desperately, cracked lips that tasted of firewhiskey and some other alcoholic beverage and he knew why he bothered to care.

_Don't take it personally_, he'd said. But the lie – the irony was that Draco had longed for it once. He'd _wanted_ Harry to crush his lips against his. He'd wanted that lust-lidded gaze upon him. He'd watched a little jealously as the gaze was on Ginevra Weasley. He hadn't expected them together – he'd known of Ginevra's infatuation with Harry – no Potter, as he'd been back then. He'd known from the start, because he'd made it his business to know everything. He'd expected Potter to never notice poor little Ginevra. What a shock it had been to see them dating, holding hands, and _kissing_ each other. It had broken Draco's heart. Again.

The first time Harry Potter broke Draco Malfoy's heart had been at Diagon Alley. Draco had just wanted a friend – he only wanted a friend and he had absolutely nothing to talk about, so he'd jabbered away about anything that came into mind. Then Harry had scorned him – he knew it when Harry walked out of the store so quickly, without even a backward glance and his heart had cracked. It broke when Harry had flat-out refused his friendship. But year six had been the worst. His heart had been crushed and completely shredded into tiny fragmented pieces that Draco had never managed to put back together.

_Don't take it personally_ Draco had said when Harry _finally_ kissed him because he suddenly _knew_ that he didn't love Harry. It was a bittersweet realization that he no longer loved Harry. Oh, he _loved_ Harry, but he didn't love him the way a woman could or another man could love Harry. Because Draco still thought of himself as a boy – but somehow he'd become untouchable. And Harry only wanted what he could not have.

Draco knew that if he'd been sixteen still and Harry had kissed him then, the way he had in just outside the little area of the kitchen, pressing his body hard against his own, he would've given in and let Harry push him down on the floor – or the bed and he would've done whatever Harry said. But he wasn't sixteen anymore.

For a moment Draco was confused – how old was he? He'd forgotten. He'd never written down his birthday because where he'd been – nobody had asked. He remembered that he claimed to be older than twenty-four, but he couldn't remember his _real_ birthday now. Then he shrugged, deciding he didn't care when his birthday was because that was just another day and today wasn't his birthday – and even if it was, it wasn't about _him_.

Today was about Harry.

"All right, Harry?" asked Draco, walking into the room. He tried to be cheerful, but the smile felt fake, he was afraid that Harry would see through him, but Harry only shrugged.

"Go away, Draco. Just go away!" said Harry.

Draco was relieved. "Look, I'm going to make you some breakfast, okay? I want you to actually eat it. Please, Harry?"

"I didn't ask you to be here! Just leave me _alone_," Harry cried. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. "_Just go away! Just go away! Just go away!_ _Just go away! Just go away! Just – go – awa –_"

Draco watched, almost dispassionately as Harry's voice broke and he began to cry in earnest. He felt like he could not connect to Harry's sorrow. He could not understand _why_ Harry would cry about things that meant so little…

And then he realized that Harry thought his troubles were greater than any of the troubles Draco had ever seen. And he realized that Harry had not _wanted_ to admit that Ginny had died, not because of him, but because she loved him. Draco knew that Harry was aware that Ginny had died, but Harry had thought it was his fault that she died. That he, Harry, had killed her.

For a moment, Draco had the sensation of not being in the room. He spun dizzyingly through a light, and he remembered seeing Ginny screaming and in front of a spell, full of green light.

Then he blinked and saw that he was reaching for the doorknob. And for a moment he thought it would go right through the doorknob – that his hand would close in on nothing. He thought of the transparent, pearly white ghosts and how they walked through objects. Then he felt the cold metal pressing onto his hand, and he turned it, opening the door once again. He closed it behind him, and wondered why he'd thought of the doorknob going right through his hand.

He went to make Harry breakfast and forgot about the peculiar sensation of not quite being there as he grabbed the items he needed and mixed them together, humming a tune he'd half forgotten.

xxx

Draco didn't go to the youth center and avoided the shelter altogether. He went instead to the graveyard. He didn't think about what he was doing or why he was going there. He simply went because he felt that he had to.

He walked almost mindlessly to the place that the world had placed the marker. He looked down at the name, blinking at it before realizing it said Ginevra Molly Weasley.

It said her full name, but Draco wanted to see it in Arabic and so he stared at the name, seemingly unable to read it.

The mind, Draco thought, is a truly powerful thing. You only see what you want to see within the world. Everything else you are blind to.

"Draco," said a girl. He turned around and saw her. He knew her – and suddenly she kissed him and he remembered.

"I thought you said you were going to stay in Egypt," Draco breathed into her hair.

She shook her head, laughing. "No. I changed my mind."

"But you said you couldn't come back to England – not with…"

She sighed. "I know what I said, Draco. I just… Well… I guess I just chose to come back." She looked at him. Draco noticed her eyes again. They were a shade of ultramarine, and they made him dizzy, reminding him of falling into water.

"Why?" asked Draco.

"I don't know. I mean… I guess I just wanted to be with you."

Draco nodded. "Are you coming?"

"Coming where?"

"To where I'm staying – I just have a flatmate, I guess. He's letting me stay with him."

"All right," she said. She smiled at him again, and kissed him sweetly.

xxx

Harry managed to eat half of what Draco left him. He'd just dumped the rest into the trash when the door opened and Draco walked into the room with a girl. Harry looked at her and wondered why she had to exist.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, as though she knew him. When he shot her a hard glance, trying to place her, she added, "Harry Potter – _the_ Harry Potter. Draco why didn't you tell me you were living with _Harry_!"

Harry could have groaned. Or maybe he could have killed her because she was obviously one of the many people who thought they knew him, but all they knew were the stories that circulated through the papers.

She walked over to where he was and stuck out a hand. "Name's Ana Engel." She hesitated, before she added, "It's really Nirvana but I prefer Ana, but Draco thinks Nirvana is a much better name. My parents… Kurt Cobain… Nirvana." She shrugged.

"Huh?" said Harry, bewildered.

"_Nirvana_," said Draco. "You know – that band with Kurt Cobain? It began in nineteen eighty-seven and ended when we were in our fifth or fourth year, I think. Kurt Cobain killed himself."

"Oh," was all that Harry could think of saying. In a daze, he turned to the girl with the odd eyes and dark hair. "So your name's Nirvana after this band?"

"Yeah," she said. "It's Nirvana le Engel." She suddenly made a show of looking at her watch and exclaiming that she was late for a meeting with a Muggle agent for the newest exhibition.

"I'll talk to you later, Draco." Harry watched as Ana leaned into Draco and gave him a long hard kiss before she Apparated away, leaving the scent of… of something vaguely familiar.

Harry thought back to the time he'd kissed Ginny Weasley in the Gryffindor common room and he wondered if this was how Romilda Vane – and all those girls who'd love – who'd _lusted_ after him had felt.

"She's… just a little odd," said Draco, sounding awkward.

"Don't – you don't have to explain," said Harry. "I understand you're perfectly straight."

Draco opened his mouth, but then he closed it, deciding to let Harry believe what he liked. It was better this way, Draco told himself. This way… Harry wouldn't fall in love with him and it wouldn't break his heart when he… when he had to leave.

xxx

"I just _wish_ I knew what was up with Harry," Hermione said standing in her kitchen. Angelina Johnson – now Weasley, looked like she was going to tell her something.

Hermione waited, but when nothing was forthcoming, she said, "Do you know why Harry's acting strangely? He hasn't called me in _days_! And whenever I call him, his machine picks up."

"Well," Angelina said. "He has… um… he has somebody living with him."

"Really?" said Hermione, intrigued. "Who?"

"I can't tell you," said Angelina. "It's… not my place to tell you. It's a bit of a secret. But I can tell you that he won't hurt Harry."

"It's a male," said Hermione, catching onto Angelina's slip.

"Um… yes. Harry's living with a male."

"Does he know about Ginny? Is he a wizard?"

"Yes," said Angelina, looking a bit uncomfortable. "He's a wizard and – and he knows about Ginny."

"So, his name?"

"I can't tell you that," said Angelina.

"Did he go to Hogwarts?"

"Um… sort of. He's gone all over the world," Angelina said with an uneasy laugh.

"Are they involved in some type of… er…" Hermione a vague hand gesture.

"Um…" Angelina hesitated. "They say they're not. Harry… I think Harry could love him, but… but, um, Harry's friend wants to be just friends."

"Oh."

"I think you might be able to visit Harry soon. I'll talk to him for you!" Angelina said.

"Oh, yes. Could you please? Every time I call he doesn't answer me."

"I will. Next time I call him, I'll ask," said Angelina.

xxx

Draco wondered if a person could sleep themselves to death. Could a person just simply sleep so much that they would sleep into death? And he wondered if it was worth the struggle of dragging Harry out of bed.

Harry had slept more than most of the week. Draco was virtually taking care of Harry now. Harry fell asleep in the shower, in the bathroom, while he was eating – he just slept.

Sighing, Draco moved wearily to Harry's room. He looked at the door, before he knocked gently. Harry didn't answer and Draco sighed before he straightened his shoulders and pushed the door open. Harry was asleep. Draco watched him disinterestedly noticing that Harry was beginning to look a little thinner than usual. Just as vaguely, Draco recalled that sleeping around the clock was a sign of an illness or depression.

He wondered again if he really ought to wake him.

Draco remembered suddenly that Harry needed to eat. Harry could starve to death if he wasn't there to wake him and force him to have some sustainable food in his body.

"Harry," he said, shaking him awake.

"Draco?" asked Harry, sleepily. "What's wrong?"

"Time to eat," said Draco, yanking the covers off Harry's bed. Harry protested, trying to go back to sleep.

In the end, Draco won and Harry shuffled into the dinning area where Draco watched him carefully. He forced Harry to eat more than half of what was on his plate.

"_You_ don't eat," said Harry pointedly at Draco.

Draco stared at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Harry gaped at him. "You don't think you might, oh, I dunno, _die_ if you don't eat?"

"No." Draco regarded Harry in detached curiosity. "Why would I die if I didn't eat? I don't have to eat."

"You're human," said Harry. "You're really thin too."

Draco shook his head. "I don't have to eat. I – I drink a potion."

"A what?"

"A nutrient and protein potion," Draco clarified. "It gives me everything I need, minus the calories and any other harmful substances."

"You're joking, right?" asked Harry.

Draco noticed that as much as Harry made the attempt to stay awake, Harry could barely keep his eyes opened.

"No," said Draco. "I'm not joking. Harry, I'm not completely normal. I can't eat without getting very ill as I'm allergic to some of the most common and basic ingredients in food."

"You weren't allergic at Hogwarts. I'd've found out," said Harry sleepily.

"Go to bed," Draco sighed. "You're falling asleep in your potatoes."

"Eat, Draco?" Harry said.

"No," said Draco. "I don't want to eat. I drink the potion faithfully, so I will not die."

"But you're underweight, huh?"

"I guess," said Draco cautiously.

xxx

Nirvana or, rather Ana, as she called herself looked up when she saw Draco walking toward her.

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked abruptly.

"Because you and I are over him," she said softly. "We can never be, Draco. You know that. Besides, you can't fall in love with him. We are not capable of loving someone the way they should be loved."

Draco shook his head, his light hair falling into solemn gray eyes. "I just wish that he'd be okay. I'm leaving, Ana. You know that."

"Are you?" she asked. "You've stayed for as long as you have. You're in love with this world. You don't want to let it go no matter how much you insist you've left it all behind you."

"It's not about me," Draco said furiously. "It's about Harry. He's in danger – from himself. He feels guilty. Because so many people died and he couldn't save them – _especially_ those he loved."

"He didn't love Percy Weasley," said Ana mildly.

"No," Draco agreed quietly. "But he loved Ginny, Dumbledore, and my cousin – Sirius Black. He couldn't save them and he blames himself."

"Yes," said Ana. "You didn't have to go to him when he decided to finish it. You could have let it be."

"I interfered," said Draco with a sigh. "And now I must finish it. But I just _can't_ – did you know I was in love him. Since the day I met him, I was in _love_ with him. I was like a stupid little girl with a crush. I never – you heard the rumors about my promiscuity…"

"But obviously, they weren't true," said Ana. She laughed. "Draco, if you're worried that you'll fall in love with him again – just when you're over him, get laid. You're what – twenty-six? You really need to get laid."

"I don't feel like it," said Draco. "I'm not interested in him or anyone else. I think… I think I'll go after this is over."

Ana bit her lip. "I wasn't going to tell you this soon… but I'm leaving too, Draco. I'm moving on with my life. I'll stay for a tiny bit longer, but then I'm gone. There's only so much I can do for – for anyone, really. I stuck around because of _you_."

"I know. We're a sorry pair, aren't we?" asked Draco softly. "Both of us in love with the Boy-Who-Lived."

She laughed. "Yes, well. Guess who got him in the end?"

"Ginny," he said softly.

She smiled. "But Ginny, if you remember, is dead and has been dead for eight years."

"I'm supposed to be dead," Draco said dryly.

"'Supposed to' are the key words, love," she said with a laugh.

xxx

"Get up," Draco said.

Harry opened his eyes and glared at Draco. "I'm trying to sleep. Leave me alone."

"No. It's five."

"In the morning!" asked Harry in alarm. He groaned and tried to go back to sleep. The covers were yanked off him and Harry glared as he looked at Draco. "Go away! It's too early."

"Harry, honey," said Draco in a voice that said he was very close to losing his patience with him. "You've been asleep for nearly two fucking weeks. Now get up!"

"I haven't."

"You're awake when I force you to shower and eat. Otherwise you're asleep around the clock. We're going for a morning run. I'd say a mile is a good start. You're going to keep up with me. Got it? Now get your butt out of bed."

"Yes, _Mother_," said Harry.

xxx

It was strange, Draco thought. Harry slept still, but he woke him up at five in the morning and they went for a run together. Then Harry showered and Draco made breakfast. Harry ate breakfast while Draco took a shower. There was only one time that Harry had tried to skip out and Draco had known immediately.

Harry seemed a little healthier than he had before and Draco wondered if he could relax now.

Draco settled down and began to wait for the next the rollercoaster that seemed to be Harry's emotional state went down the hill again. For now, he'd make sure that Harry went with him for a run, and ate all three meals a day. When the moment came again, he'd be there, waiting.

* * *

– Emily Dickinson

* * *

A/N: Ana – or rather Nirvana le Engel seems like she's an OC. She's not. She's somebody from the actual books. She's just changed her name. Want to guess who she is? Here's a clue: She's mentioned already in the story. The details about her – she has blue eyes, dark hair, lived in Egypt… any guesses from that? She's only here for this chapter and three more chapters, I think, before she's gone. She's also acting OOC because it's part of her disguise. And speaking of Nirvana, she will be making an appearance in Book of Shadows: Darkness Rising, so that might be another reason to guess who she really is.

Another thing, depression is a rather funny thing. I don't mean in the humor funny, but in the strange funny. It has its moments when everything is way up there and then it comes crashing down without much of a warning. Depression is an illness – a mental illness, and unfortunately I don't understand much of it.

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. The name Nirvana le Engel comes from rearranged letters of another name found in the Harry Potter books. Not all letters are used, although the full name is used, but not found within the books. That is found out through J.K. Rowling. Yes, that's a clue, if you really wish to guess. She's not terribly important, although if you figure her out, you might figure out the ending.

**Review Response:**

**Moonlit Eyes**

**caz-felton-malfoy**

Thanks for reviewing! This is the last update you'll get from me until about fourteen days from now. I'm updating this story every two weeks (I'll try to get it every thirteen to fifteen days from the last update.) Now, I'm going to post a new story (Until Forever), and then I'm going to avoid the fanfiction world for the next fourteen days to work on my homework… and my work because I'm already behind, my grades are slipping and I'm not going to become a doctor if I can't keep my grades up because these stories keep distracting me. Okay. Anyway, while I'm gone, reviews would be appreciated!

Keir Raizel the evil Genius

P.S: If I wanted to change my penname, what would be a really good penname for me? (Read my profile if you want to know how I got this penname. Or, three words: Phoenix blackmailed me!)


	9. VIII: Talk to Me

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Tell me now, and tell me true  
So I can say, I'm here for you."

**

* * *

**

Chapter **VIII**

**Talk to Me**

Harry didn't know when he got used to living with Draco Malfoy in his home. He blinked his eyes open and saw Draco, already dressed and about to wake him. Draoc smiled and something that looked like satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. Harry watched him go, silently. Draco closed the door behind him without saying a word.

Harry wished he'd said something, but it didn't matter. He slowly got up and went to grab some clothes. There were times that he expected Draco to say things about his clothes – about his wardrobe in general, but he never did.

And he wondered yet again, what he was doing.

Draco waited for him and they walked out of the flat without a word. They ran down the road and their breaths came out in light puffs that misted in front of them.

Then abruptly Draco stopped and sat down.

Harry stopped as well, wondering what was going on.

"I started running when I was fourteen," said Draco and Harry wondered what this was about.

Draco looked up at him. "That was the year my Dad got really bad. He… let's say he was strict. He spoiled me, certainly. He was… he was – like I told you before, he was like an uncle, rather than a father figure. Mother was always more… she was closer than my father was. She was the one who taught me my morals."

"I wasn't aware you had any," Harry said out of reflex and he waited for the outburst. Draco only laughed and Harry was surprised to see that Draco seemed like he was going to cry.

"Yeah, well…" Draco sighed. "Lucius never gave a damn about me. He loved my mother too much and my mother… I think she must've loved him too, but… it's just that she was too aloof. She never showed affection the way a mother should. There were times she was like a sister to me. She treated me like her younger brother." He laughed, tilting his head and causing strands of platinum blonde hair to fall half across his face. "When I was ten, she dressed us up in Muggle clothing. I was wearing torn jeans and these scruffy shoes. Both of them were worn – because I loved them when I was smaller. I'd forgotten about them, but they fit me. She gave me a shirt with a Muggle band name on it. She wore this dress and put beads in her hair. Then we went out. She charmed her shoes so that it looked like she was walking around barefoot. We went off to this place and people smiled and said that we were hippies. She laughed and taught me to sing a song. It was by some Muggle band – the Beatles." Draco sighed. "I met a girl then. I was ten – I wasn't really aware of the world back then. I was rich, spoiled and loved. Well, my parents loved each other and I was content. That was the first time I met Hermione Granger. She never remembered me – not even when she hit me. I thought she would, because she hit me before we got to Hogwarts. My mother laughed at us and told me that love made the world go round – not violence – not money or anything in the world. It was love that made the world go round because love was the root of everything – the root of goodness just as it was equally the root of evil. Then… then seven years later, she died in the same place. She'd run there because she had – she had friends living there. I think they were Muggle and… The Death Eaters went after her and… she fought." Draco was definitely going to cry and Harry had the petty feeling that he ought to turn around and run away before had to see Draco breakdown in front of him. But Draco sighed and said, "My mother died today. She died today eight… nine now, years ago. My father was the one to kill her under the Imperius. And I just watched him do it."

"I'm… I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

Draco nodded. "I know."

Harry cleared his throat and said, "Ginny… Ginny was dead before the last battle ended. Everyone thinks she was there during the last battle – until the end, but she wasn't. She died before…She… I was fighting a Death Eater – I don't even know who it was and then – and then suddenly she jumped and pushed me out of the way. She didn't – couldn't get out of the way and – and she took the curse meant for me. I was so… I didn't even realize she was dead. I just left her and jumped back into the battle. I just walked away from her and went off to fight some more. Then – then I was fighting Voldemort and I was so tired… I hadn't slept in nearly thirty-two hours and I was just so tired. Then – Then I heard someone cast the Avada Kedavra and – and I thought I'd die, so I cast it at Voldemort. The next thing I knew, I was just… lost."

Draco nodded, slowly. Harry noticed that Draco looked tired. He looked so very tired and Harry wondered if he was so selfish to not see that he wasn't the only unhappy person in the world.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.

"Do you want to go and visit Ginny's grave?" Draco asked suddenly. "I'd like to visit my mother."

xxx

It came as a shock to realize that Harry wasn't hurting when he saw Ginny's grave. He didn't hate her or himself. He felt numb.

He turned away from the marker and walked off to find Draco.

"Harry? Is that you?" asked a girl he didn't recognize. Harry stared at her blankly. "It's me, Morag MacDougal," she said. She smiled. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"No," said Harry.

"That's okay," she said. "I heard you weren't really living in the Wizarding world anymore. I was just… surprised."

"I see," said Harry. He looked over her shoulder and saw Draco standing behind her. He was within shouting distance, Harry thought. He watched him as he touched the stone that must've marked his mother's grave and he watched as Draco turned his gaze up to the sky.

He wondered if Draco was crying.

"What are you looking at?" asked Morag suddenly.

"Hmm?" said Harry, turning to Morag. She, too, looked in Draco's direction. "What are you looking at?" she repeated. "I'm sorry, that sounded awfully rude of me."

"No, it's okay. I'm just – I came here with a friend," he said, finally.

"A friend?" she echoed and looked around. "But there's nobody else here with us," she said.

Harry turned to look at Draco, but he was no longer there. For a moment he panicked and wondered where Draco was. He'd been standing next to the tree – he couldn't have disappear – no, he wouldn't _Apparate_ without him, Harry told himself. Yet, the graveyard was empty. He and Morag were the only two people there. He saw the look in her strange eye color. It was pity

"Morag," said Draco suddenly, making her give a stifled scream.

Her jaw dropped and she blanched to the point that Harry wondered if she was going to pass out.

"You're dead," she whispered. "I saw you die."

Draco shrugged. "I… um…" he looked slightly sheepish, "faked my death."

"What!" she exclaimed. "You _bastard_ – do you know how many people were upset?!"  
"I didn't think anyone would miss me," said Draco lightly, but Harry sensed, rather than heard, the underlying bitterness.

"_We_ missed you," Morag said quietly. "Some of the younger kids missed you."

Draco laughed shortly. "I highly doubt anyone went to my funeral."

Harry suddenly remembered what he should have remembered when Draco first showed up. Draco Malfoy was supposed to be dead – he'd known that because Fred, Angelina, and Draco had told him a while ago. Yet, he'd known Draco Malfoy was dead before Draco said anything. He'd – he remembered the shock of the Wizarding world as it reeled in a sudden disorientation after the discovery of Narcissa Malfoy's death. He suddenly remembered that it had not been Lucius Malfoy who killed Narcissa, but Percy Weasley. He closed his eyes and remembered the scene. Everyone had yelled at Percy – he'd been with the Ministry at the time, and Arthur Weasley had shouted at his son. It was one of the few times Harry could remember Arthur Weasley losing his temper. He'd told Percy he should have waited until the authorities had arrived. He should have waited until the Aurors had arrived. The place had been covered with Death Eaters. And Percy stood accused of killing Narcissa Malfoy. Several people had rejoiced until the shocking secret came out in an accidental brush against a shelf.

Narcissa Malfoy had been THE spy – the one that had given the most information to the Order.

Harry was reeling in the shock of remembering this. He had not recalled that it was Narcissa Malfoy who had been a spy. And he remembered suddenly, that more information came weeks after Narcissa Malfoy's death and kept coming. Recent information. The information that had led to Percy's flight after being revealed as a Death Eater. A Death Eater with hair so pale it was seemed like strands of moonbeams had helped Percy get away. Someone had discovered their contact – whomever it had been at the time. There had been a trickle more of information after Narcissa's death and the ultimate betrayal that had devastated them – and they'd lost Percy. A Death Eater had come for him and the information – that last bit of information came with Percy's dead body, a few days after Voldemort's demise. And now Harry stared at Draco and whispered, "It was you."

"What?" asked Morag, breaking off in the middle of her rant about irresponsible friends and Slytherin snakes with no hearts.

"It was you," Harry breathed.

"What was me?" asked Draco warily. Harry saw suddenly, Draco's hand. It thin… and so _white_ – and Draco had absently gripped his left forearm. The fingers went even whiter.

"You were a Death Eater," Harry breathed. "I'm so stupid. You were a Death Eater."

"Harry," Draco began, but Harry didn't bother to listen to him and Disapparated.

* * *

– Loren Heath

* * *

A/N: This is just plain awful. I'm sorry. I hoped you liked it even though it's all so horrible. 

Oh, and I probably ought to explain. Draco said his father killed his mother under the Imperius, but Percy stood accused of killing Narcissa. Percy was the one to cast the Imperius on Lucius, forcing him to kill Narcissa. But people didn't know it was Lucius who killed her because Percy was there, and they only thought they saw Percy killing Narcissa. Does that make any sense at all?

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. None, aside from the chapter quote… I think. I skimmed over this, and didn't find anything. If there's something I missed, let me know, please.

2. Morag MacDougal is a Ravenclaw, according to various sources. Some authors make her into a Slytherin or any other house, but she's listed as a Ravenclaw in my sources. On the other hand, you may look it up.

**Review Response**

**caz-felton-malfoy**

**Silver Tears 11:** I'm afraid not. As I've said, she's not terribly important in this story. But you'll find out in **Book of Shadows: Darkness Rising**, and the only reason Nirvana is in that story is because I couldn't think of another name that had the letters rearranged of her real name (or rather, a really cool name and I just like the band :D), although in that story, she won't have the same last name. You can figure it if you just rearrange the letters of Nirvana le Engel. I've said before I haven't used all the letters of her real name, but I did use most of them.

Anyway, thanks for reviewing! And to those of you who read but did not review, thanks for reading! You'll get another update soon…I'm going to speed the updates up, because I counted and realized that if I update the way I planned, this story won't be completed until November. I'm hoping to have it all posted by the end of July… and I apologize for the delay of this update. I couldn't load the chapter for some reason… did anyone else have trouble updating their stories?

Keir


	10. IX: Anger

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Your anger don't impress me  
The world slapped in your face  
It always rains like hell on the loser's day parade"

**

* * *

**

Chapter **IX**

**Anger**

Harry wanted to scream. Draco Malfoy had been the Death Eater who'd –.

He broke off the thought. He – why would Death Eater Draco Malfoy help him?

Harry walked to the room Draco was staying in – had been sleeping in and yanked the door open. He found everything the way it should be. It looked as if Draco Malfoy didn't even exist in that room.

The room was empty, and Harry saw a fine layer of dust on everything. He stared at it before he blinked.

The couch had been transfigured into a king-sized bed. There was a packet of Marlboro Lights on the table and ashes on the floor. The cigarettes themselves were crushed and in the trashcan.

But it didn't smell as though anyone had ever smoked in the room. He stared at it before he saw the glass doors that led outside to the balcony. Of course. Draco wouldn't smoke inside the room – he'd smoke outside. The ashes were near the garbage can, so it must be when he threw away the used up cigarettes.

He walked further, looking for a bag – or something that would discriminate Draco, but aside from the packet – there was absolutely nothing.

"Harry," Draco said behind him, startling him. "You don't have all the facts."

"No," said Harry. "But you were there – that last battle – you were there!"

"I know. I'm sorry," said Draco quietly.

"You were the one who got Percy away – it was you. You hurt us all and – and – I don't _believe_ this – why did you come back?"

"Because you need me," said Draco quietly. "I'm your guardian angel, Harry. You need me."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped. "You're no angel, Malfoy – you're just the most cold-hearted bastard I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

"I'm sorry," said Draco again. "I'd make it up to you… but… I'm sorry. I can't say anything more than that. I'm trying, Harry – just like you're trying."

"Yeah right," said Harry. "What do you want? Money?"

"No," said Draco.

"Then what? Don't tell me – you want to seduce me and get another point for sleeping with the whole school? You were a slut when we were at school – of course you'd want sex."

"What were you then, when I got here? Don't deny you wouldn't have slept with me that night you were drunk. You've slept around – one-night stands. You had them before I got here to save your sorry life."

"I don't need any saving," Harry snarled. "You're the bastard. You're a murderer."

"It was war," said Draco quietly. "The law of war is kill or be killed."

"You know what," said Harry. "Just go. Find another place to stay."

"Harry… I'm not blameless," Draco began. "But I – look this is ridiculous. If you must remember, my _mother_ died in that war. I don't know what you're blaming me for, but I'm sorry. I can't fix this. I'm trying, Harry. I thought I could help you, but if you're going to push me away, fine. I'll go."

Harry turned away from him and glared out the window. He heard Draco sigh.

Harry waited and thought.

But – but… the information… who had sent the information with Percy's dead body? Who had given up the location of the hideout where many of the Death Eaters were after the war? And the information –

Harry suddenly remembered the elegant script – so like the information from Narcissa Malfoy. They had suspected an attempt to forge Narcissa's handwriting, but… but – the writing was so natural with obvious differences. Such as the handwriting had slanted right rather left than as Narcissa Malfoy's hand – and it was more… more _male_ than feminine.

Harry suddenly felt sick. He stood up and on the table, next to the Marlboro Lights packet, he saw the notepad. He stared at the handwriting. Draco had written out a grocery list – the way he had done since he'd arrived. It was elegant… so refined – almost feminine and it slanted to the right. Harry closed his eyes and recalled seeing Draco diligently writing his notes in History of Magick and Harry tried to remember when he'd seen Draco doing this. He remembered suddenly that the feathered quill had been in Draco's left hand as he wrote.

Narcissa Malfoy had been right handed, but Draco was left-handed.

Harry wanted to throw up.

He whirled around and called out, "Draco – wait!"

He felt the panicked sensation that it was too late – that Draco would be gone, never to come back – he'd made an accusation he shouldn't have.

He was ready to run to the door and chase Draco Malfoy down, when he crashed into Draco. Or he should have. For a dizzying moment, he thought that he had gone _through_ – he turned and saw that Draco had jerked backwards to slam against the wall to avoid the collision just in time.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, seeing the startled look in Draco's gray eyes.

"It's okay," said Draco with a sigh. "I know you were upset."

xxx

Draco had a bruise on his back from the impact. He knew he did when he lay down and winced at the pain. Harry was angry – Draco understood that.

Draco hoped that this was a sign of progress. Anger was much better than suicidal depression. Although, Draco mused, homicidal anger wasn't much better than suicidal depression at all.

He rolled over in bed and barely stifled a yell.

"Nirvana," he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

She laughed softly. "I'm in your bed. After all these years… who would believe it?"

Draco scoffed. "You've been in my bed before."

"Oh, yes," said Ana with a wicked smile. "But that was only that one time."

She fingered her dark hair and Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's this about, Nirvana?"

"I was just thinking… I ought to dye my hair again. My roots will show soon."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Dye it purple or something."

"I remember when we dyed your hair pink. It was… _interesting_."

Draco grimaced. "For you, maybe."

Ana smiled again. "I'll dye it red."

"Aren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"What happens when we die forever."

"You're dead, Draco."

"Draco Malfoy's dead in the Wizarding world," Draco corrected. "I never existed at all in the Muggle world until I showed up. And now I'm back."

"Well, it's that interesting paradox isn't it? Are you alive? As far as the majority of the world is concerned you are dead. And as far as the Muggle world is concerned, with the exception of those who've met you – you don't exist. I don't exist either. The only two people who've met me are you and Harry. And you're the only one who knows who I was. Harry obviously doesn't remember me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he doesn't remember me."

"Well, you look different," said Draco. "He's not going to remember you."

"I was in –"

Draco hushed her suddenly. "You have to go – now."

"Okay. I'll see you later." Ana was suddenly gone and Draco sighed in relief.

"Draco?" asked Harry, poking his head into the room. "I'm really sorry."

"I know."

"Who were you talking to?"

"A friend," said Draco, making a big show of closing the cellphone now in his hand.

"You've got a cellphone?" asked Harry, looking at it.

Draco shrugged noncommittally and put it away. Draco looked at Harry, wondering if the rage was gone or not.

xxx

Harry was angry again the next day. Draco sensed it before he even spoke to him. Draco sighed and made Harry breakfast.

"I'm going to work," he announced to Harry.

Harry only growled at him.

"Did you just growl – never mind. I can see you're a little bit upset," said Draco.

Draco went to the youth center. The day was what Draco might have called slow. Yet he spent it worrying about Harry. Harry wasn't in the mental state to be alone. That anger might turn into suicidal anger.

Draco knew that it made no sense – but he knew that people could and did hurt themselves in anger. They would cut themselves or abuse themselves in order to control their enraged impulses – which were to hurt someone else.

He decided to go home two hours early and wondered why he thought of Harry's apartment as home.

Draco felt uneasy when he stepped through the door and saw that Harry was drunk. Draco bit his lip and wondered if he ought to call Blaise.

_I can do this,_ Draco thought and said, "Harry?"

Harry turned and looked at him. "You're a bastard, Malfoy, you know that? You're just pathetic – even more than I am."

Draco decided to keep his mouth shut. It wouldn't do to get beaten up by Harry when he was drunk.

"You – I don't even know who you are," Harry continued. "You were a Death Eater. You fought right next to Voldemort. And yet… your handwriting matches the handwriting on the notes the spy in the Death Eater camp sent. Your mother was a spy. Were you a spy?"

Draco stared at Harry. "I – I would've been killed if I were a spy."

"Then why does your handwriting match the spy's?"

"I don't know," Draco said flatly. "How much of that _information_ was accurate?"

"It got us to Voldemort and let me kill him. And it led up to Ginny's death."

"Oh?" Draco said carefully. Draco sighed. "Harry… you're angry. You're not really acting angry – but you are. I can sense it. Just tell me why you're –"

The glass figurine next to Draco shattered. Draco jumped back, and cursed himself for jumping.

"Why?" Harry whispered. "Do you want to know WHY!"

Draco sighed. That last word was a scream.

"Lucius Malfoy didn't kill Ginny. _You_ did."

Draco stared at Harry. His face was whiter than usual.

"You killed my girlfriend," Harry said. "I've been beating myself up about it for so long and you… it wasn't me – I didn't hold the wand that the killed her. It was _you_. I remember – I didn't see it, until just now. I thought – I don't know – for some reason I thought it was your mother – but – but it was you."

Draco sighed. "I'm sorry."

"You can't apologize for killing someone."

"It was a battle," Draco said simply.

"So you admit you killed Ginny?"

"Yes," said Draco. "What would be the point of denying it?" Draco sighed. "I'm tired, Harry. Really – I'm so tired of running – of hiding, really."

"Really? Your guilty conscience getting to you?"

Draco bit his lip. He shook his head. "I… no, it's not my conscience. It's you. You called me here. I've told you again and again that I'm your guardian angel. I'm here to help you."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Oh, yeah. Sure. Just my luck to get a murderer for a guardian angel. God must really hate me, don't you think?"

Draco sighed. "Harry… I didn't kill her. Not exactly. I was the one to say the words – I was holding the wand, but I didn't kill her. My father…"

Harry looked at him. "Did he have you under the Imperius?"

Draco opened his mouth. Then closing it, he shook his head. "It was my own free will. It's… It's complicated."

"Tell me."

"She asked me to kill her," Draco said very softly.

"What?"

"I said Ginevra Weasley asked me to kill her."

"Why?"

"I don't _know_," said Draco. "She just told me to kill her. She said it'd make you – _angry_ enough – that it'd – it'd help you. She promised me that you'd – that you'd be okay. She said that she didn't matter."

"And you believed her?"

"No," said Draco. "But I still killed her."

"There's more to this story, Draco. I know it."

Draco sighed. "I don't know the rest of it. The story of why she did it died with her. I killed her, yes. But… she asked me to."

"Well that's perfect," said Harry with a laugh. "My girlfriend arranged her own murder and – and I can't even – would you kill me if I asked you to?"

Draco stared at him. "I'd let you die if I thought it would be best."

"But would you kill me, hold a wand and say 'Avada Kedavra' if I asked you to?"

"No," said Draco.

"Why?"

"Because I can't cast the curse."

"You killed Ginny. I think you can."

"I can't."

"Really?" said Harry, looking at him suspiciously. "How do you _know_."

"Because I held a wand in my hand after the war was over. I pointed it at myself and said the words and nothing happened."

"What!" Harry gaped at him. "You're not suicidal."

"No," said Draco. "I'm not. It was a one time thing. I'm too vain to kill myself." Draco met his gaze. "But you want to kill yourself don't you?"

"I need a way out," Harry said. "I need a way out, Draco. I need – I _can't_! I tried, I really did – but I can't – I can't do this. I want it all to just _end_. I'll kill myself if you don't kill me. I'll do it – I will."

Draco watched and by the time someone asked to explain what happened then, he wouldn't have known what to respond.

Harry pulled out a gun. It was a small handgun and Draco watched in disbelief as he lifted it upward toward his temple.

"Oh no," said Draco and he raised his hand just as Harry fired.

* * *

– Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you think in a review.

Although, my thoughts on this story are still the same...

Oh, and as for an interesting piece of information, you can't tell what hand a person writes with through their writing. That's a common misconception, but I figured Harry wouldn't know. Left-handed slant means something like having had a bad childhood or something, I can't remember. It's been a long time. Another bit of information – that I didn't have until after I finished this story – Draco Malfoy's really right-handed in canon, but I'll just make-believe he's ambidextrous. (See HBP – the chapter Harry nearly kills him.)

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. The quote for the chapter. Goo Goo Dolls' Broadway.

**Review Response:**

**Kanui d'Astor**: I'm very glad you asked that. That's the main point of this story. I said it was more of a psychological story than the emotional story I wanted when I began it (which is why I don't really like it – well, that is, it bothers me somewhat – you'll see why when it ends… if you get to the end, anyway). Anyway – it's a psychological story because the question you _have to_ keep in mind is – Is Draco dead or not? It was written to confuse you on the subject. You won't get a real answer to _that_ question until the end...

Anyway, to everyone else who read, but did not review, thanks for reading. I hope I haven't chased you off with this really bizarre story. Review if you will, drop me a line. I'll try to update again next week (if not, then wait for the fourteen day thing).

Thanks!

Keir


	11. X: Never Too Late

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Even if I say it'll be all right,

I still hear you say

You want to end your life

Now and again we try

To just stay alive

Maybe we'll turn it around

'Cause it's not too late

It's never too late"

**

* * *

**

Chapter **X**

**Never Too Late**

For a moment there was nothing but sound. Then there was silence…

Draco stared at Harry, his hand still up. Harry stared back at him, his face suddenly very pale.

"What..." Draco whispered. He felt cold – as though he'd been drenched in ice.

"What did you do!" Harry said, his voice very thin.

"I…" Draco took a deep breath and saw the blood. "I haven't done that in a long time," Draco mumbled.

"What did you _do_?"

"I took your injury into me," Draco murmured, sitting down on the floor.

"How?"

"I don't know how it works. Just – just give me a minute."

"You're not dead – I was aiming for my head – if you took into yourself, then where –?"

Draco closed his eyes. He concentrated on that place inside himself. For a moment it was very warm, and slowly it spread to where the coldness was.

Draco sighed, opening his eyes suddenly weary. He checked himself and wondered if he had enough to stay there as long as he'd planned. If Harry kept acting the way he was – then sooner or later Draco wouldn't be able to keep this up. He'd –

He shook his head. He wouldn't fail. He'd set out to do what he was supposed to do and be _damned_ if he failed.

"Draco?" it was the very quiet voice that got his attention. Draco opened his eyes to find himself in a bed – and Harry was watching him worriedly.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

"Don't ever do that again," Draco said. "I can't do this! I've done this twice – once when I first arrived and now this time with that gun. I'm lucky I didn't take it somewhere else."

"What did you do?"

"I took your injury into me before it reached you. I can't do that a lot – I can do it if you're already hurt – that takes less energy. You were aiming at your head, so I simply grabbed it before it reached you and it reached me instead."

"How?"

Draco smiled, but ended up grimacing. "I'm a natural healer. I heal people with my magick. It's a talent I was born with. There are certain things I can't heal, but I can prevent. Injuries like the one you just tried to give yourself, I can avoid because it's a matter of redirecting the object. So, in a really strange sense, for the split second it took you to nearly kill yourself, you were me and I was you. Then we swapped back and we were separate."

Harry stared at him.

"It's complicated," Draco said, giving the less complicated explanation.

xxx

Harry wondered why Draco was lying to him. He'd expected to die – he hadn't expected for Draco Malfoy to somehow get hurt. But there was no injury – not on him and definitely not on Draco. He knew because he reached out and touched the unbroken skin where the blood oozed out. There was no wound. Yet there _was_ a wound, but he couldn't feel it.

He wondered what Draco had done. He'd done _something_.

And he stared at Draco and wondered why – what reason Draco Malfoy might've had to try to Avada Kedvra himself after the war. He wondered what had saved him.

Draco swore that he'd come to help Harry and Harry wondered how much of that was true.

xxx

Draco was upset. It was understandable when he'd nearly watched Harry kill himself. He shivered. He could still feel the injury within him. Harry didn't know – he would never know that what he'd done was soul magick. Draco knew he wouldn't survive an attempt to absorb the injury physically. So he'd absorbed it with soul magick and life magick combined. And he was going to pay for it for a while. Already, he could sense his physical body weakening even further than it should have.

"Oh, Draco," Ana said softly as she walked to stand by his bed, where he'd laid after Harry had left him alone. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," Draco said. He tried to smile, but he was too tired to smile.

"You've made yourself worse," Nirvana said. She slipped under covers and curled up next to him. Draco stroked her hair. The light from the window caught her hair.

It was nighttime Draco realized belatedly and wondered what Harry had for dinner.

He blinked. "Nirvana… your hair's red."

"I dyed it," Ana said in explanation.

Draco nodded and curled into her warmth.

xxx

Draco awoke with the sunlight streaming into the room. He sat up in some type of horror when the door opened.

"Draco," Harry said finally. "I… how are you feeling?"

"Okay. How are _you_ feeling?"

"I don't know."

"You don't feel the urge to take a sharp and pointy object to end your miserable life?"

Harry didn't answer and Draco sighed. He was _tired._

He really shouldn't have done that little stunt. He should have let Harry die at his own hand. Nobody would've known that he was there. No one.

Except some latent Gryffindor quality had made him cast the magick and wearing himself out more than he had the right to.

Draco wondered how much longer he could stay. He could feel it within himself that it wouldn't be much longer. He hoped that he could stay for as long as possible.

"Draco?" Harry said, sounding like he'd been saying his name for a while. "Are you okay? You seem a little sick."

"I'm fine. Let's talk about you. You're suicidal."

"Yes," said Harry. "I'm sorry. I just –"

"It's selfish," said Draco. "Suicide is a coward's way out. It's not a Gryffindor thing to do. You ought to know that."

"I just… I'm just _tired_," said Harry.

"So am I," Draco said quietly. "But I don't want to die. I don't want to figure out what happens after someone dies. I would think you've got more to live for than I do. You're worth more alive than dead. I'm worth more dead than alive. Besides, nobody really cares. How many people bothered to show up for my funeral back when the war ended? None, probably. They probably just buried that empty casket and –"

"It wasn't empty," Harry said suddenly. "A few people showed up. I – I wasn't there because I was sick. But Hermione went. She said that – that you weren't well-liked. Only a handful showed up. She said the living Slytherins showed up – some Ravenclaws, like Luna, but no one else."

"What does that have to do with the casket not being empty?"

"They found things you used like – the things you loved. Like the pieces of your wand… your father was there. He cried, Hermione said."

"He cried because Mother was really upset with him," Draco said. "She was angry because he didn't take care of me."

"Your mother was dead by that time."

"I know," said Draco. "That was just his perspective. As for me – I was enjoying myself in Bora-Bora."

Harry shook his head as he gingerly sat down next to Draco.

"Don't bother," Draco said. "I'm getting up. Lying around in bed with somebody sitting next to me makes me feel like I'm dying."

Harry shot him a strange look. "I was worried you might –"

"No," said Draco, brightly. "I just burned a few years off the end of my life."

Harry looked alarmed.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Draco smiled.

"You gave up a few years of your life?"

"Don't worry; I've got plenty of time left," lied Draco. He inwardly cringed. He wondered how much penance he'd have to do to find absolution for the lie.

_It was only a white lie,_ Draco thought. _And it's not like it's not true… it's just not what he thinks_.

"Okay," said Harry. "Are you going to outlive me?"

"No," said Draco. "You've already outlived me once."

"You're not dead, Draco. Even though the rest of the world might think so, you're not dead."

"I guess not."

Harry nodded and walked away.

xxx

It was guilt that made him confess to Ron. Harry felt so guilty of taking everything out on Draco. He remembered Draco's reassurances that he was fine – just a little tired…but he'd seemed so pale.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked him anxiously.

"I…" Harry trailed off. He cleared his throat. "I want to die."

Ron gaped at him. So much for being subtle and breaking it gently.

"What?"

"I want to die," Harry said softly, figuring it was better this way.

"Ginny gave up her life so that you could _live_, Harry – not just throw it away!"

"I know that," said Harry. He suddenly wanted to cry. He felt resentful toward his mood swings. Why did he suddenly get so angry – so happy, then suddenly so depressed… He _hated_ it.

"Oh… Harry. Just… just hang on a bit longer for Hermione… and me," Ron said. "You've got to hang around to save us all from the big and bad."

Harry forced a laugh, and quickly changed the subject.

xxx

Draco was exhausted when he left for the youth center. Melissa noticed his exhaustion – the paleness of his skin. He shrugged her off, saying that he'd been unable to sleep the night before. He'd nap later.

Yet, five hours later, Draco was nearly asleep on his feet. He finally told Melissa he was leaving.

The phone rang and Draco was too tired to go and pick it up.

"Hey, this is Harry. Leave a message for me!"

"Harry… Oh, God – Harry – where are you? Ron told me – you better not have done anything! I –"

"Hello?" Draco's head swung upward and he met Harry's green eyes.

"No, I'm fine," Harry said. "It was just a thought Hermione. Just leave it alone."

Draco closed his eyes. He wondered if it would ever be all right.

He almost laughed.

Harry wanted to die. Draco wanted to live.

* * *

– Three Days Grace

* * *

**A/N**: I suppose you're wondering how Draco made it so that he'd get the injury without really getting the injury and avoiding Harry altogether. I can't explain that very well. So… let's just say that it might be explained within the story. However, what he did, you'll have to draw your own conclusions.

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. Chapter quote – from Three Days Grace's _Never too Late._ The chapter's title comes from there as well… I'm not that great at coming up with titles. Titles and summaries are my weak points. If you want to help me out, be my guest.

**Review Response:**

**caz-felton-malfoy**

**5mOk3y**

**Kanui d'Astor:** Oh, you're bright! Although, Harry actually aimed at himself, not Draco's hand, but that's okay. Then again… the curse – you noticed that. That's very good. You might figure this out before the end: )

Hello! I'm back. Well, not forever, but for a few minutes anyway. First, thanks for reading if you didn't review; thanks for reviewing if you did. Now, I wonder… how many hints can you pick up? I like hints, clues, and pretty much planning, so everything you need to know is in the story. Care to take a closer look? (Although it'll make sense when we get to the ending.)

Keir Raizel


	12. XI: Surviving

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness; instead keep your head up high and gaze into heaven for that is where your broken heart has been sent to heal."

**

* * *

**

Chapter **XI**

**Surviving**

Lucius Malfoy knew grief. He was very fond of it, to be sure. He stood in the graveyard, a solitary figure. He gazed upon Narcissa's headstone and wondered just how far he would go. Then again, the question was moot because Lucius had already gone too far to stop now. He would revive Narcissa. He wondered if she'd be proud. He'd sunk so deeply into the Dark Arts, he was nearly as Dark as Voldemort had been. Except Lucius was not insane. He just wanted his wife back. He wanted the woman he loved to return to him. The question, Lucius mused, was not how far he would go – but how far _could_ he go? It was a simple question.

And the answer was simpler. As far as he had to go…

For a moment he sensed someone's eyes on him. Lucius sensed their thoughtfulness. That someone saw him standing over Narcissa's grave did not bother him. Many people had seen him in his breakdown at Draco's funeral.

And he frowned. The gaze that he sensed – it was _so_ warm, so full of the thing that Lucius no longer understood. Its name eluded him and he wondered what it was. The sensation of the warm gaze upon him did not scare him. Its familiarity, however, did scare him. It scared him badly – he _knew_ this gaze. He knew its penetrating intensity.

He lifted his head and met eyes that were a strange mercurial mixture of his own and Narcissa.

_"Impossible_," he murmured in French. He blinked – or perhaps not, but then the eyes were gone. Lucius was alone in the graveyard; it was empty.

xxx

"What do you _mean_ Draco Malfoy's alive?" asked Colin Creevey. He stared at his old school friend and year-mate, Luna Lovegood.

"I mean, he's alive, but he's not alive," said Luna. "I don't understand it. His aura – it's like the veil at the Department of Mysteries. Yet it's here – _he's_ here physically. I don't understand this. I want you to take a picture of him, Colin. Like paparazzi. Do you understand?"

"Not be seen by him. But then how do you know it's not someone polyjuiced as him?"

"I don't," said Luna and Colin mused that the war seemed to have made Luna a little more sensible than she had been. No less strange, but much more sensible.

"All right," he said. He could do that.

xxx

"I'm going," Ana had told Draco. And he sensed her go – he sensed the sudden dizzy emptiness. She was no longer within reach or call. And Draco wondered what happened when a person died – truly _died_… not the slipping out into another place, but when a person left the _world_. And he wished he'd never find out.

Yet everyone died. Draco walked down into the cemetery, musing that this seemed his place to wander around. He would go to the closest cemetery. He'd drift into the nearest graveyard when he needed to think. He thought for a moment of the wonderful graveyards in New Orleans. He thought of those old graveyards. And he remembered the ancient graveyard in his backyard – the one that had gone out of use long ago, long before his great-grandfather was born.

He walked through the graveyard that existed for the purpose of reminiscing about the war. He came to the great stone grave – Tom Riddle was buried here. He was dead for good, and whatever remained within the sealed grave, was nothing but ashes.

He'd seen his father from afar, but he knew that Lucius was not ready to see him. Perhaps, Draco thought, someday he would be. When the time came, they would have a great deal to talk about. Yet, he was uneasy, for he'd sensed the Darkness of magick within the area of his mother's grave. Out of habit, he orbited toward his own. He stared at it and thought: _he was so young…_ before he recalled that it was supposed to be him.

He stared at the dates until they blurred. He'd died at the age of seventeen. He'd died a mere two hours before his eighteen birthday.

Yet, he was still here – he was not dead, technically speaking.

He sighed and lay down on the grave, trying hard not to think about the irony of lying atop of his own grave. Staring up at the fading azure, he wondered how many lives had been destroyed, in a single heartbeat. How many people have been devastated in a single moment – a single gesture?

Voldemort had the right idea – there _was_ no good and evil, and if there was, there was a fine line that no one would ever guess where it blurred and crossed to the other side.

xxx

Harry wondered if it was _natural_ to act this way. Was it natural to blame – anything, anyone for someone's death? Was it natural to be so _angry _at the – at the universe in general afterwards? Was it natural – to suddenly go from anger to crying in helpless grief…. In devastation so great, words alone could never describe it? Harry had thought he was miserable before – thinking it was his fault that Ginny had died, but Draco – _Draco_ had killed her. It had made him furious – until he realized it was war.

He wondered about the full story – Ginny had asked to be killed. Had she known that the rage – the sudden murderous rage… the desire to blame someone other than himself would let him surpass any inhibitions that might've stopped him from killing that bastard Voldemort? Had she _known_?

He twisted the thoughts in his mind.

Yet, the desolation that the thought that Ginny had thought that she had to sacrifice herself to further his purpose of existence… it drove him mad.

He could not fathom why.

And it was unbearable.

It was as intolerable as the thought that Draco could not just let him – _would_ not let him die at his own hand. It was that doggedness that stopped Harry from ending his pitiful existence. Time and again, Draco Malfoy showed up to save him. And suddenly he remembered Draco when they were so young. He remembered the way he'd tagged after him – after Hermione, Ron, and Harry. It was so strange – why did he obsess over them so much? Year six was the only year that Draco Malfoy had mostly ignored them.

He'd gone looking for Malfoy for the mere fact that the triteness of his life had not followed on schedule. For so long, Malfoy came to him in the train compartment and that year – he had not been in his own compartment, so he'd gone looking for the other boy.

Love was a wretched and cursed bitch. Love had no sympathy, offered no kindness especially when it was unrequited love. Harry Potter was in unrequited love with Draco Malfoy. How ironic. How… _nonsensical_. To make it worse, he was still recovering from his ex-lover's death. Harry wondered if Draco Malfoy was only the rebound. If so, why not Hermione – or if, by some illogical law that defined logic in Harry Potter la-la-land, it had to be a boy – why not Ron? Or Neville?

He cursed whoever had decided that man must lose his heart to find his soul.

xxx

Draco headed back toward Harry's apartment and wondered what they were doing. Why was he living with the boy he'd loved for so long until the day he got him only to find he no longer loved him?

Draco knew that he could never love Harry. The boy he'd built his life's dreams around was gone and the present Harry Potter could only hold his pity – his sense of compassion, but not his heart. And he wondered if perhaps he had not given his wounded heart to the Harry Potter of his childhood, but to the world as he slaved to find his own redemption. Perhaps, he had given it wholly to the quest to find his unblemished soul. That was, to find absolution.

xxx

Ron Weasley knew things. He knew, for example, that Harry was in love and miserable. Not just that, but he was under the delusion that he could never love anyone but Ginny. He also knew from a tiny slip that Fred had made that Harry had been talking to Draco Malfoy, although how Harry might come to talk to a dead classmate was beyond him.

Ron Weasley, however had began to pick up clues.

While it was Hermione who was good at planning and research, Ron knew how to watch. He was not capable of understanding the pathetic feelings someone might feel such as Cho Chang – but he could understand their motives. He could also understand undying devotion and jealousy. He was familiar with the two – he was just as familiar with love. Hermione had taught him that, among the myriad of things she'd taught him throughout their lives.

Ron had observed things. He'd seen that Blaise Zabini had gone to a Muggle youth center in London and asked for Malfoy. And Ron had inquired about Malfoy and found that a young adult male, age mid to late twenties, but looked far younger – was volunteering at the center and at a shelter for those without a home or wretched home-life.

And he'd traced it back to exactly two years after Draco Malfoy had supposedly died. He knew, for example, that Draco Malfoy was seemingly trying to become the male version of Mother Theresa. Except, of course, not many people knew him and he was seemingly happy as an unassuming, unknown, selfless savior of the helpless. Something that Ron found oddly Gyffindor. He also knew that Draco Malfoy had a tendency of disappearing for long periods of time and coming back without ever revealing anything. He dug further to find him two months after he'd supposedly died – as a freelance photographer for various magazines. He'd procured them and upon examination, he rather grudgingly admitted that Draco Malfoy was good at capturing the life around him in a still Muggle photograph.

And he came upon an old photograph of Draco Malfoy himself. Dressed in white, and holding a young African girl in his arms. She was young enough to drink from a bottle and Draco Malfoy was obviously feeding her. He was unaware as his picture was snapped. And caught in the sunlight – Ron couldn't explain how or where it hit him, but Draco Malfoy seemed to be surrounded in a halo of light. The whiteness of his clothes and hair, made him become an angelic being upon the earth.

Except Ron knew better. Draco Malfoy's purpose was to cause havoc and he knew why Harry wanted to die. It was because Draco Malfoy was back to make Harry's life a misery.

* * *

– Unknown

* * *

A/N: Sorry, this chapter really does nothing for the story. Let me know what you think anyway. About Nirvana, she's gone and she won't be back in the story. Who she was is unimportant, really. You may guess, but she doesn't matter. The quote… that probably doesn't make sense either…

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. Draco's history… Notice he's disappeared before. That's the only direct hint you'll get because I'm feeling strangely generous.

**Review Response:**

**Silver Tears 11**: I do hope you keep trying to figure it all out…: )

**Kanui d'Astor**: What was your original theory? Although, to answer your question (and perhaps give a little hint), Draco would _appear_ to die to his observers and to the person he was saving, but it wouldn't necessarily mean he _would_ die. After all what you _see_ is usually very different than what really _happened_. (Something to talk about in a psychology class… I think I got into a heated debate about that with my teacher… Perspective.)

To everyone else, thanks for reading! I know I don't demand reviews, but it'd be nice to get feedback. I find it rather amusing, though, that this story has eleven chapters as I write this, and not that many reviews, while my WIP humor story (I Plead Insanity) only has five chapters and already has more reviews. Is it because I began my non-profitable fanfiction career with the ever popular parody, _Prophetic Resolution_? I know I only really have two angst stories under my name – this one and _Imperfections of Perfection_, which did get some reviews after a while. I find it interesting that when I write humor I get more reviews (and quicker) than when I write angst. I'm not saying this story is doing badly – it's doing much better than I expected, actually. I've just noticed that angst stories don't get as much reviews, while humor/parodies get them more often, sequels get a few, one-shots hardly get any (which is a pity… I've seen fantastic stories that are one-shots with so few reviews!). What's your opinion on this phenomenon?

On the other hand, this story only has twelve chapters to go. I'll begin the countdown to the end beginning on chapter thirteen. Anyway, review if you'd like… and just so you know, you really are lucky I don't demand reviews. Otherwise I'd never update. But you don't have fear that I won't update. I'll update until I finish posting the very last story. After all, I'm a planner, and so everything here has been planned – though sometimes my plans go awry…

Keir

P.S: Sorry for the long (and maudlin – in my opinion, anyway) author's note. I'm fighting off my pain. My own words on a screen bring me a thrill that chases the pain away better than painkillers. Trust me. Then again, I _hate_ painkillers, so anything's better than the drugs.


	13. XII: Trying

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Expect people to do better than they are;  
it helps them to become better;  
but don't be disappointed when they are not;  
it helps them to keep trying."

**

* * *

** **XII**

**Trying**

Draco had discovered that faith – even the smallest of beliefs could drive a person to extremes. He found it an odd detail.

And he watched as a teenage boy attempted to ride a skateboard. He watched as the boy attempted an Ollie kickflip and watched as the boy fell. He watched as that same boy got up and tried again. He could Ollie, Draco thought. He just couldn't keep his balance afterwards. That was the probably. It was the shifting of the weight, the balance on a piece of wood.

To attempt the Ollie was such a strange occurrence. It required the utmost concentration, the careful balancing of the body. It required a shift for gravity. It should have been impossible, some trick that never works except in movies, but it _did_. It was simple. First the amount of speed – or no speed at all, was required. A little step, the leading foot on the center of the board, a hard push downward on the concave edge of the skateboard along with a jump, a little easing off the skateboard to slide the feet forward to land directly on top of the wheels, rather than on the edge, or God forbid, the center where the board might break. And the kickflip which required more steps within the trick.

And it was interesting that he could take that knowledge with him and bring into life. The balance of all life was just as delicate. So intricately designed and he wondered if he'd upset it by simply waltzing into Harry's life – if only to save it. And he wondered if he could ever walk out of it.

Yet, he knew that sooner or later, he'd have to. The truth was, Draco Malfoy had worn out his time. It was time for him to go – he could not stay. Not for Harry, not his father – not for anyone. Not even for himself. He had come back to say his goodbyes. He'd come back for closure.

He had atoned for the sins he'd committed in one world and it was time for him to go to the other. He would leave and when he did, he would not come back.

And he watched as the boy with the face that seemed as though it had melted into itself tried, again and again, to get the trick right.

In a sudden fit of annoyance, of rage – just to spite his _niceness_, he grabbed an abandoned board and headed off, fast and hard. He easily did the trick and proceeded to do more than just that. He dropped into the halfpipe and proceeded to show off as quickly as he could. Then he stopped.

Then – ah, god, the _guilt_ – that awful sense he'd damaged something irreparably made him turn around and look at the fat boy in the eye. "You do it."

And the boy took his solemn eyes, his face and seemed to think it meant that Draco _believed_ it could be done. So he attempted the trick for one last time and nailed it. Draco's smile could not be hidden as the boy turned to look over his shoulder at him. The boy suddenly glowed with pride.

Draco wished it was that simple to fix the problems of life.

xxx

Harry cooked. He had not cooked in years and he wondered if he'd end up with food poisoning. Draco walked into the kitchen where Harry was working up his nerve to eat his own meal.

The smile on Draco's face was worth seeing as he saw him there.

"You cooked!" Draco said, sounding delighted. Or perhaps Harry wanted him to sound delighted and so he heard Draco sound delighted.

Harry watched as Draco moved around in the kitchen, cleaning up after him. He watched as he placed the clean dishes in their place, took the empty pots and pans off the stove and washed them. He watched, even as he slowly ate, as Draco hummed and half danced there in the kitchen as he moved around to check what was in the fridge. He watched as Draco wrote down on the clipboard attached to the fridge the items that needed to be bought with a pointy black erasable marker.

And he wondered what made Draco so _happy_. He wanted a bit of that happiness for himself. He _needed_ it. Then he wanted to be happy because Draco wanted him to; simply because Draco turned to see Harry watching him and smiled a lovely smile at him.

xxx

"Ron's suspicious," Harry commented.

"I know," said Draco. "I'd've thought Granger would know it by now."

"Doesn't she?"

"No. But she's asked questions. Angelina told me."

It was a surprise when Draco leaned against him, pressing a thin body against him. Draco's body was warm and Harry realized Draco had fallen asleep.

Harry looked down at Draco and saw the sharpness of his cheekbones and the tiny shadows that Draco's eyelashes made. Harry lifted Draco and carried him to his room. Harry wondered when the room there had become 'Draco's room'.

He shrugged and wondered if Draco was all right. He seemed so tired. Harry wondered.

He might have been okay, if he had not seen the picture on the table. He and Ginny were kissing and Colin had snapped a picture. It had been their first kiss.

He stared at it until his ears were buzzing and he knew that no matter how hard he tried – no matter how much Draco seemed to try to make him feel better, although, sometimes he wondered…

It wasn't _enough_.

He couldn't take it. It was too painful.

xxx

Draco woke up. It was a sudden, a subtle shift within the balance of things. He sensed danger. And for a moment he wondered if he ought to try to save Harry from himself. _Again_.

Draco sighed and stared at the darkened ceiling, knowing that it was the smallest of things that triggered such powerful emotions. Such a small, insignificant thing, and yet when it caused things to crash, it felt as though the world had betrayed you.

Draco knew it.

He could picture Harry walking into the bathroom and picking up the sharpest knife he could find and simply cutting to make it go away.

Draco wondered, as the light in the bathroom went on, if he ought to go and try to save Harry.

Then, slowly, he turned over to grab yet another cigarette. He climbed out of bed and headed outside to smoke away his thoughts.

If Harry wanted to die, who was he to stop him? Let Harry go join Ginny. Draco couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

– Unknown

* * *

**A/N**: Thoughts, comments, constructive criticism? Review! No, really - if you see any mistakes, let me know, (that counts as con.crit.).

Sorry, I'm avoiding commenting myself, as I will go on a rant about what I feel are the parts I could've written better.

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

N/A

**Review Response:**

**caz-felton-malfoy**: Well, you don't know for a fact that Draco's dead. He could be dying and trying to make up for his sins before he dies, or you might be right and he's a ghost who made a deal with a higher deity (God or the Devil, but possibly "God"), or he's none of these and is very much alive but has become something else with his magick and is either human or not. But on the other hand, you're on the right track here – which part though, I'm not saying. If you can solve it… : )

**Kanui d'Astor:** Ooh, thanks for saying that about the Lucius and Narcissa thing. I think most people think they really hate each other. I'm for both sides, though. Some stories, I have them hating each other, others, they really love each other. As for Ron… I'm not a fan of Ron (if I were, I might not mind the RW/DM or DM/RW stories so much), but I find him amusing. If you have an idea… let me know about it: )

To everyone else who read but didn't review, thanks for reading! Review if you have an idea of what's really going on with Draco. Unfortunately, I can't say much right now because I'm out of time. Actually, I'm running out of time to do anything. So, as a heads up, if I'm not finished by the 29th of August, I won't be updating again until quite possibly November or December.

Another thing – is anyone fluent in French? If you're fluent, (and I mean _fluent_ – not the 'I've got an A in my French class' kind of fluent – native speaker would be the _best_), are you willing to stick around with me and translate things for me? I really want French in my stories, but I can't speak a word of it. I can sort of read it… well, I can puzzle it out, but I don't know it, never studied it, and might never learn it. So, if you're really good at French (or any language like Theban or Japanese) let me know.

Thanks!

Keir


	14. XIII: Down Again

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"You feel so empty

So used up, so let down

If you feel so angry

So ripped off, so stepped on

You're not the only one"

**

* * *

****XIII**

**Down Again**

Draco smoked and he remembered the scars on his own skin. He could see them, even if no one else could see them. Every scar had faded – all but one. Draco knew its shape. It was in the shape of a heart. And he knew that when this was over – when he finished with Harry, if he saved him, the final scar would fade.

Harry did not know the spell. Draco wondered if he ought to be thankful or regretful. It was a level ten Dark Arts spell. A single spell that showed a scar – a wound within the soul on the skin. For every immoral action, another scar would appear. It was a measure of purity. It was a _painful_ measure of purity.

Draco remembered the scar that had cut right through his chest. It had been the first scar to appear when he first cast and aimed the Avada Kedavra at another human being.

He remembered wanting – wishing, _hoping_ that he would die before he awoke. Draco sighed. He couldn't remember what it was like – not fully. It was like a memory – or rather, a scene seen from underwater. But he knew that _that_ was how Harry was feeling. The problem was, Draco admitted to himself, that he didn't _want_ to connect himself to the emotions, not that he couldn't connect – that he couldn't relate to them.

Slowly, he got up and went to find the boy. Draco told himself it was only because he couldn't just sit there and do nothing as Harry died.

He ignored the thought that if it had been him, Harry would've stood there and laughed.

xxx

Hermione knew that it was time to pay Harry a visit. Conversations in places that were _not_ Harry's home, or any place where she might get a hint as to what he was _really_ feeling.

"Ron," she said. "We're going to talk to Harry."

"He's at home," said Ron. "I know he's at home."

"Look, I think I know who's staying there with him."

"I do too," said Ron harshly. "And that's why I'm not saying we're not going to talk to Harry."

"But how – and _why_?" asked Hermione.

"To make his life an utter misery, as usual," said Ron. "I knew that this was what was going to happen. Harry didn't want to die before _he_ came back."

Hermione bit her lip. "But, Ron," she said, suddenly anxious. "What if he's… _happy_ with – with…"

She couldn't bring herself to say his name.

There had been a time she wondered about Draco Malfoy. She had been too far away, but she'd seen him with Lucius Malfoy. She'd tried to scream out a warning, as Lucius uttered that Unforgivable curse, aiming at Harry's unprotected back. She'd seen the green light flashing out of Lucius Malfoy's wand. And she'd seen Draco Malfoy step directly onto the curse's path. She'd seen him fall, but she'd never once thought to check to see if Draco Malfoy was really dead.

She had felt guilty about all those times she'd mocked him. Taunted him – all those times she'd slapped him across the face. She had wondered _why_ – Draco Malfoy would've been the last person she'd have expected to save Harry Potter.

She had felt guilty for misjudging him. Yet now, she wondered if she had. If he was to blame for Harry's sudden depressed state….

Heaven help Draco Malfoy because after she was through with him, there would be nothing left.

xxx

Draco walked out of his room and headed toward the bathroom. He wasn't surprised to see the blood. But he was surprised to feel his usual lightheadedness. It had been a long time since he'd passed out at the sight of blood. The Death Eaters had not taken it kindly to know that he _hated_ blood.

He wasn't surprised to see Harry glare at him as he walked into the room.

"There's a certain type of relief in pain," said Draco. "It's utterly indescribable, yet it feels very good. I know. My father's cronies loved to see me scream when they said _crucio_. I learned to love it when I was young. It takes a certain amount of masochism to want to feel pain for the need of feeling physical pain. There are many spells – many Dark Arts spells that cause pain. I've felt many of them. When I was young, I loved them, because it was all I knew. I never knew of love. My father didn't teach me and my mother kept away from me in fear of breaking me."

When Harry simply stared at him, ignoring the blood dripping on the floor, barely noticing that Draco had taken his knife – barely noticing that he had began to wrap a towel around Harry's bleeding wrists. Draco continued, "I never enjoyed it. I just thought I should. I have died, Harry. I died before and I don't think you ever want to die."

"You're still alive."

"My heart stopped beating for three weeks. They kept me alive with spells. There are spells in the Wizarding world that will keeping a heart beating long after it has stopped and spells that will keep oxygen pumping into the lungs. In the Muggle world, they have things called a heart and lung machine which keep a person alive when they have no heart, or their heart has stopped. It is the same. The difference is that the Wizarding world can keep a person alive for forever, or until the body fails so much, no spell can hold it together."

"But you're alive."

"Necromancy," said Draco matter-of-factly. "I died when I was thirteen. I died when I was seventeen. You don't know if I am really alive. In the same way, you didn't know if I really died then. I could be telling you this to keep you from noticing the things I want to hide."

"Are you hiding something?"

"Everyone has something to hide," said Draco simply. "Be it good or bad, everyone has something to be kept away from the prying eyes of the world. Yours is your pain, which you believe you cannot bear. You could be dreaming this. I may really be dead and you could be dreaming this to stop yourself from dying."

"Why would I do that?"

"You tell me," said Draco. "It's your dream."

* * *

– Three Days Grace

* * *

A/N: Sorry, this chapter's short! Let me know what you think in a review! Be nice, respect as you'd want others to respect you! (I daren't say as you'd respect yourself because some people are just damned frightening!) 

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

None that I'm aware of…

**Review Response:**

**Kanui d'Astor**

Okay, I'm not really that busy anymore, but I won't get a _real_ break until next week. So, I'm just dropping in and starting the countdown. There's TEN chapters left for this story. Next week I'll try to update every other day. I'll have more time to respond. I used up my limited time by updating my other story, the sequel to _Prophetic Resolution_. Sorry! But I took the time to update this one. So, anyway, review, please, even if it's just a word or two or a lovely constructive criticism that points out those little errors I overlooked.

On the other hand, thanks loads to _Kanui d'Astor_ who agreed to translate things into French for me. So, there's French in the next story!

Anyway, review if you wish, I won't hold it against you if you don't. This story is completed, I've written it all out. Again, you've only got TEN chapters left 'til the very end. There's no epilogue on this one.

Keir Raizel

P.S.: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


	15. XIV: Confrontations

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"A friend will break your heart, a friend will mend it, a friend will provide you with every feeling in the world, good and bad. A friend is emotion incarnate."

**

* * *

****XIV**

**Confrontations**

Ron had a key to Harry's flat.

They let themselves into the flat, only to find it oddly silent. No, Hermione corrected herself, it was not silent. It was merely quiet. She could hear the low murmur of voices somewhere in the apartment.

"Everyone has something to hide," she heard Draco Malfoy say. "Be it good or bad, everyone has something to be kept away from the prying eyes from the world. Yours is your pain, which you believe you cannot bear. You could be dreaming this. I may really be dead and you could be dreaming this to stop yourself from dying."

"Why would I do that?"  
"You tell me," said Malfoy. "It's your dream."

Hermione paused. She didn't understand the conversation at all. It rang within her, making her nervous for a reason she could not begin to fathom.

Ron snorted softly besides her. She knew him well enough to know what he was thinking.

She glanced around the apartment, realizing that it smelled like cigarettes. She spotted an ashtray that she knew Harry hadn't had before on the table, next to the television.

She wondered when Harry had begun smoking.

Then she saw Draco Malfoy walking out of the bathroom, holding a knife drenched in blood.

Ron opened his mouth and –

"MALFOY! You _bastard!_" Harry was yelling.

Malfoy spared them a glance, before walking to the kitchen and placing the knife in the sink. He reached toward a cabinet and pulled out a first aid kit.

Hermione unthinkingly wondered how Malfoy had known it was there.

Then he was walking by them again and into the bathroom.

Ron was already moving and Hermione followed him, despite her misgivings.

"You took my _knife_ – what are you doing?" asked Harry.

Malfoy was kneeling on the floor at Harry's feet.

"I am worshiping you, oh Highness of Pathetic Existence-ship."

"_Draco!_" said Harry, but he laughed shortly, in startled surprise and something akin to shock.

Malfoy had begun dabbing at the insides of Harry's wrists before wrapping gauze around one wrist. Much to Hermione's shock – and much to Ron's shock, most likely, as he seemed to be speechless at the moment, Draco began to hum a song.

"Mariah _Carey_ – Draco, why do you know a song by a Muggle!"

"Oh, pardon me," said Malfoy. "I was unaware that I was forbidden of having Muggle knowledge."

"It was just a question."

"Oh, well." Draco said as he wrapped Harry's other wrist. He fussed for a bit with the bandages. "I heard it today. It's called Hero."

"Yes, I know."

"I thought it was appropriate given your situation." Malfoy said dryly.

"Malfoy, you _bastard_. You're so cruel!" said Harry, softly, but she still heard him. "You've made me fall in love with you and you don't even have the decency to love me back and then you act like _this_!"

Malfoy paused. "You _do_ realize your friends the Weasel and Granger are standing right there, right?"

Harry turned to look at them and said, "Oh, Merlin fucking _dammit_!"

"Wouldn't goddammit have sufficed?" asked Malfoy mildly.

xxx

Hermione wondered at her own calmness. She thought she ought to be screaming. She should be crying. She should be horrified. Oh, she was a clever girl. She understood how it worked. She'd understood the concept of Harry and other… _boys_. She wasn't appalled, but she felt in a distance corner of her mind that she _should_ be.

Yet… she was numb. She thought she understood. She thought she knew.

She didn't know a thing.

It was horrifying. She didn't understand it. She watched the calm silver eyes as they looked into Harry's green eyes. She noticed, idly, detachedly, that Draco Malfoy's eyes weren't really silver. They were gray. Just ordinary, simple gray and Harry's eyes weren't really emerald green, they were jade. Yet, both of them had a burning intensity in their eyes that it was blinding, striking… so attention grabbing that it changed the perception of the color.

_Why am I thinking about their eye color?_ Hermione wondered, in a vague sort of hysteria. And her mind wanted to tell her something. She _knew something_… And then Draco looked up at her and met her eyes.

She fell. It was dizzyingly, horrifying – but she _knew_… Draco Malfoy shouldn't – _couldn't_ be alive. Nobody survived the – not unless they were Harry and – she was sure that Harry _could_ die from a well aimed curse.

"You – I saw you die," she whispered. "Why are you alive? _How_?"

"It missed me," Draco said simply. And she accepted that. It was an _explanation_ a natural explanation, and – and _logical_.

Harry looked between them and yanked his hands from Malfoy's grasp, wincing slightly.

"What happened here?"

"I was going to let him die… but then I thought that if I was going to start chain smoking _again_, I might as well save him," said Malfoy.

Ron stared.

Hermione thought that made perfect sense.

Harry thought they were all insane and he started laughing. He buried his face in his bandaged hands. And Malfoy, kneeling at his feet, reached up and stroked his hair.

"It's okay to cry," Malfoy's quiet voice seemed to echo in Hermione's mind. "It's okay to hurt, it's okay to blame someone else, and it's okay to want to die as long as you remember it's only temporary. Someday, it'll be sunny again. And you'll be there to see it."

"What if I want you to be there with me?" asked Harry, a little desperately, a strange quality to his voice. Hermione realized – Harry was _crying_.

"I'll be there," said Malfoy simply. "I'll be there wherever you are in ten hours, days, months, years, centuries – I'll be there, watching over you. It's what I do, remember?"

Harry laughed. "You're my guardian angel. God's _got_ to be insane."

Malfoy laughed. "Say it like you mean it."

"Malfoy, you may _look_ like an angel, but you're really the furthest thing from an angel."

"Thanks," said Malfoy. "I really mean it, too. No, really, I do!"

"You're mad. Completely barking."

Malfoy only smiled. "Yeah. But I mean it… I'll be there with you forever. Remember that, if you remember anything, Harry. Remember that I'll be next to you even if you can't see me."

Harry was silent and Hermione felt like she was intruding on something infinitely private between the two boys. A glance Ron, told her that as angry as he was with Malfoy, as much as he hated him – he could feel it too.

"Why does that sound like you're saying goodbye?" Harry asked him, suspiciously.

"Nirvana left me," Draco said quietly.

Harry stared.

"Who's Nirvana?" asked Ron, deciding he'd had enough.

"Draco's girlfriend… ex-girlfriend?" Harry looked at Malfoy.

Hermione suddenly understood. Harry was in love with somebody who would – somebody who _couldn't_ ever love him back the way he wanted. And she marveled at it. Why did Malfoy stay, why did he care enough to ignore that Harry was in love just to try to fix him? He was going to hurt him. And Hermione would kill him for breaking something that was already broken.

Then Malfoy reached up to touch Harry's face and Hermione realized that Draco Malfoy was in love with Harry Potter. And she wondered which was worse. To love someone who could never love you back, or to love someone who you _knew_ loved you back, but you could never have.

* * *

– Unknown

* * *

A/N: Not the way I planned this chapter… Not the way I wanted to end the chapter, for that matter. But I suppose, I might as well before Hermione gives away too much. 

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

I think I'm missing a few quotes here. Help me look, please. I really think I'm missing something…

**Review Response:**

**caz-felton-malfoy**

**Kanui d'Astor**

**Adhiana**

**InuyashanKagomerlovers**

**DarkxAz**

Thanks for reviewing! And for everyone else, thanks for reading if you didn't review. Anyway, I was going to update yesterday, when I kinda got caught. I hid what I was doing, but the point is if I'm caught _again_ I'll be in trouble since I'm not supposed to use the internet so much and for purposes other than the educational value. But I'll try updating again this week… when they're looking the other way. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and excused my random sense of humor which tends to pop up in places it really shouldn't. Review if you will, if not – I won't hold it against you.

Keir Raizel

P.S: Has anyone else having trouble centering things?! I can't center the roman numeral for the chapter. Oh, well...


	16. XV: Guilt

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Lay the guilt on myself

So it's easier, to not stay, to not stay"

**

* * *

**

**XV**

**Guilt**

Draco left the Gryffindors to talk to each other. He didn't think about where he wanted to go. He simply left, sensing they needed time with just each other.

He wandered off, finding himself near the coastline. He could see the ocean from a distance and he sat down, musing on the course of life. He wondered if it was fate – had it been predestined that he would be what he had become?

Had it all been truly determined before their very births? Draco did not believe in fate. Fate… it was such a strange concept. Life was never predetermined. Although in when a person bothered looking back, it was rather obvious that they became what their choices dictated.

"Hello," said a voice Draco vaguely recognized. He turned around and saw Molly Weasley looking at him.

He wondered what she was doing there and if she was there often.

"Percy died here, they tell me," she said softly. "I – we got his body. And a message. And I've never understood _why_ he would choose to join the Death Eaters. I – we taught him better than that!"

Draco sighed. "It's strange, isn't it? How everything you've ever done can come out so wrong." He turned to look at Molly Weasley. She seemed older, much older than he would have thought possible. "Children make their own choices. It's strange… that your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. And all we can do, whether they're really ours or not, is try to teach them _how_ to make the good choices. It's not about teaching a child values. It's about teaching them _how_ to live a good life. And teaching them _what_ defines 'good'. A child cannot tell the difference between good and evil if they don't understand it."

"Do you have a child?" asked the woman Draco had so long ago insulted for having so many children.

"I work with children," said Draco simply.

"Harry... He's angry at my son. He thinks you've left because Ron…" she shrugged helplessly. "Arthur instilled within his sons his hatred of Malfoys. I am afraid they can't see much beyond that."

Draco looked at her. "Fred certainly has."

She looked surprised. "Really?"

"He kept my presence a secret, didn't he?"

xxx

He wasn't surprised when Molly Weasley left him alone. She didn't know him. She never had known him and never would.

"So… this is where you've been hiding," said someone from his past.

Draco glanced up and then sighed. "I'm not hiding. They know where I am."

"Yes. But they do not know what goes on through your mind."

"Fate," he said abruptly.

"Curious thing, fate."

"It's not," said Draco. "There is no fate. The future is not set. There is no fate but what we make."

"Go back to your friend, Draco. It's not time for you to leave yet."

"I am an angel in disguise," Draco murmured. "I didn't see it, but I've always been. Somehow, in some impossible way, I've always been an angel."

His companion laughed. "My child, you are not an angel alone in the world. You are one of many. What makes an angel? You need not be a protector of the world to be an angel. You are not an angel by the definition of your peers. Yet, you are in your soul because that is pure."

"So, when I die, I'll sprout wings, right?"

"No," said his old friend, smiling. "Not all angels have wings."

Draco didn't reply. He was silent for a moment, and then asked, "Why?"

"Why what, child?"

"Why am I still here? I should be dead. I shouldn't _be_ here. I need to go. My time ran out long ago and I'm still here. I know it – I can feel it. I should have left long ago."

"You came back for Harry," said Draco's companion, and sighed. "You came back to help the enemy you hated for so long in your childhood."

"We might've been lovers," said Draco. "If I were sixteen and he'd kissed me like that – the way he did, I would've given him my soul. I would've given him everything, no questions asked. But now – I don't have anything left to give!"

"You do," observed the old man. "You do not see it, but you do. You may save the world, oh dragon of ill faith."

"Serpent of Eden," Draco muttered. "That's what my name means. Not the name of an angel at all."

"Do you wish to be an angel?"

"Yes," said Draco. "I'd _die_ to be good. I want to be good. I want the heavens to acknowledge me."

"They probably do. The heavens are more aware than you would ever imagine."

"There is no redemption," said Draco softly. "There are so many things I've done, so many things that are cursed in an ill wind. I can't redeem my name. No one would ever believe I did it to be _good_ – they would give my actions a twisted logic. They would say it was part of my evilness."

"The world may believe you are evil, but your soul knows the truth."

And then Draco was alone again.

xxx

It was a strange thing – all of it was so very strange, Draco thought, when he began walking back to Harry's flat, having Apparated to a place nearby.

"You're being selfish!" he heard Ron Weasley's voice. He sighed, and but then he let himself into the flat. It was warm, Draco noted distantly. He could not feel the warmth, but he could sense it.

"How am I being selfish? I'm _tired_, Ron! I can't _do _this anymore. I try – really, I do, but I'm so _tired_. If death will bring me peace, then let me die!"

"Since you're feeling like committing suicide, think about this," Draco said. "It is human fate to feel pain. Don't give up the privilege of suffering so much more than others. A lot of superficial people experience but a glimpse of true pain; but very few are selected to enjoy the full gruesome experience. Being one of them truly makes you special." Draco looked at Harry. "Besides," he added, philosophically, "who knows what the Realm of Death shall contain? Maybe, it offers a worse fate."

"It's not a worse fate," said Harry softly. "Not when I feel so – I'm alive and – and some of the people I know – the people I knew aren't. Ginny's dead. I'm alive."

"I told you what happened with Ginny," Draco said flatly. "Don't throw it back in her face."

"She's _dead_."

"I know she is," said Draco. "I think it's you that needs to realize that. You're holding on to her almost as tightly as you're holding on to me!"

Ron and Hermione stared at him and Harry looked at them, then back at him. He looked devastated. "If – if you want to leave, the door's open," he said tightly.

"Harry, look, I didn't mean it like that! I'm sorry!"

"Then what did you mean?" asked Ron. "What did you mean – did you say it to hurt him?"

"No. It's the truth. I shouldn't _be_ here. Don't you understand? I left this world a long time ago! He called me and I came. He _called_ _me_."

"How?" asked Harry.

"You nearly died," said Draco. "You almost succeeded that night. If I'd come a little later, waited a little longer – hesitated before I healed you, you wouldn't be here at all. There'd be no point. And that was the way it was meant to be."

"You're a Seer," Hermione said, something akin to understanding dawning in her eyes.

"You could say that," said Draco cautiously.

"A Seer?" Ron exclaimed.

"Most Seers are frauds," said Harry, flatly, remembering Trelawney.

"Most of them are," Draco agreed softly. "Seers are born, not made…." Draco stared at them until they all seemed uncomfortable. "All of this is a lesson learnt. You will learn it and you will not forget the lesson, but you will forget learning it."

They stared at him. "What do you mean?"

Draco only smiled a little wistfully, a little enigmatically. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

xxx

Harry didn't know what to think. He felt guilty – or did he _really_?

"I'm guilty," he whispered.

"No, you just think you ought to be," said Draco. He jumped. "I thought everybody was gone."

"Including me? I live here with you, you know."

"You don't want to."

Draco sighed. "It's not so much that I don't want to… it's just that I shouldn't be here." Draco met his eyes. "You're going to have to let me go eventually, you know. I'll stay with you even when you do. You needed me here and I came. We're bound by blood. I shed my blood for you, long ago. I bound myself to you. My life for yours. It's an ancient spell. Your mother began it. I finished it."

Harry stared at him. "What?"

"If you die, I die," said Draco finally. "If you're going to live, live for me. Besides, pain and guilt can't be taken away with a wave of a magick wand. They're the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves."

"What if I don't want to be me?"

"Then don't." Draco looked at Harry. "You define yourself by what you think other people think you ought to be. Don't compare yourself to something that never existed. We would make our heroes shallow. We would make them brittle. You are stronger than you might ever believe yourself to be. You _will_ survive. Do you understand me?"

Harry stared at him. "Why?" Harry whispered. "Why do you believe in me?"

"Because I see your flaws." Draco smiled. "Yours and mine are the same. That's why I hated you so, that is why I loved you as much I as did until I couldn't love you anymore. It hurt too much. I gave it all to you. And I'll give you this last thing." _And I hope you will remember it, _Draco added to himself.

"Are you dying?" Harry asked the question gently, and a little abruptly.

And Draco could not lie when he answered, "I'd die for you, if you asked me to."

* * *

– Shinedown

* * *

A/N: This story isn't turning out the way I planned it. Oh, well. Hope you're enjoying it. 

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

**(Note:** This chapter has a lot of quotes. I hope they make sense. I usually plan out my chapter and put in quotes that I hope say what I want to say far better than I could. The only exception is the chapter quote – I pick out the chapter quote as I'm planning the chapter.)

1. Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. – Kahlil Gibran

2. The future is not set. There is no fate but what we make. – Unknown

3. Not all angels have wings. – Unknown. I get the feeling that this comes from a movie. I didn't look it up, but I seem to vaguely remember it from the movie "Wide Awake"

5. Since you're feeling like committing suicide, think about this: It is human fate to feel pain. Don't give up the privilege of suffering so much more than others. A lot of superficial people experience but a glimpse of true pain; but very few are selected to enjoy the full gruesome experience. Being one of them truly makes you special. – F.H.

6. Who knows what the Realm of Death shall contain?  
Maybe, it offers a worse fate. – Unknown

7. Pain and guilt can't be taken away with a wave of a magick wand. They're the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. – Kirk, from Star Trek.

8. We would make our heroes shallow. We would make them brittle – Anne Rice, The Tale of the Body Thief (The Vampire Chronicles, Book IV)… I will use this quote again. I will use a little bit more of it, I think. It works for this, doesn't it?

**Review Response:**

**Kanui d'Astor**: Oh, it was going to be several pages longer, and Ron was going to have a bit of the spotlight, but oh, well. Hermione's too perceptive. Thanks for liking it the way it is, though. : )

**InuyashanKagomerlovers**: The clues for who Nirvana is are really simple. Her real name spells out Nirvana if you rearrange the letters of her name (her full name). She's not terribly important, so you don't have to figure it out unless you're planning on reading the sequel to _Prophetic Resolution_ (I don't know if you are, or if you've read that one… but if you are, then great, you get a free clue that won't be given in that story). I used the name Nirvana because I'm terribly lazy and can't be bothered to find another name when I already have a perfectly good name. She's got blue eyes, and dark hair, which you've already found out is dyed. It's perfectly natural (and a very good assumption) to assume that her eye color isn't natural either. She is, after all, someone who wants to remain hidden. The other hint for her is that you might figure out the way this ends (sort of). Sorry for the horribly long reply. But since you were curious about Nirvana… I'm rather long-winded anyway. Oh, and you're welcome, by the way, and thanks for appreciating that part. : )

**SerenityMelody**

**wicked-nightmare**: Hello there! I'm glad you're liking this story. : )

**Silver Tears 11**

Thanks for reviewing! I'm rushing, so sorry if anything is in this note is grammatically incorrect or misspelled. I hate making those little errors. It comes from being a beta (even if I'm not the world's greatest beta). Anyway, thanks very much for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter (and it made some kind of coherent sense… it's been a while since I wrote this). I did go through it to check for mistakes and such, but I'm not entirely sure I caught them all. Arwen's a little busy at the moment, so she didn't get a chance to go at this story, but she'll be back as my beta as soon as she can. On the other hand, you now have EIGHT chapters left before the end, if it can be called such. So, we're almost to the end. I won't be updating until who knows when, but hopefully before August 29th because that's when I'm leaving and I might not have a chance to update until November or December and I'm sure nobody wants to wait that long. Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying it… and if you're careful enough, you'll pick up the hints that are scattered throughout the entire story and you'll figure it out… or at least, it might answer the questions you'll doubtlessly have at the end. : )

Keir Raizel the evil genius

P.S: I'm thinking of changing the summary of this story. Any suggestions are more than welcomed!


	17. XVI: Happiness

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."

**

* * *

****XVI**

**Happiness**

_"I'd die for you, if you asked me."_

When he was young, or much younger than he was then, he would have loved to hold that power over his perceived rival. His foil, his other. Without Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter wouldn't exist. Harry had not understood that then, but he did now. And to be given that power – it was a sign of faith. Or, even if it wasn't meant as a sign of faith, he still took as a sign of faith.

"I'd _never_ ask you to die for me," Harry whispered.

"No," said Draco. "But you'd ask me to stand by and watch you die."

Harry looked at him, at a loss.

xxx

Hermione would remember, much, much later, that Draco had loved Harry. And she would be astonished, shocked – even. She would never understand it, but she knew when Harry called her, happier than he had been in years, that she owed Draco something.

And she would never manage to repay him.

Hermione knew, somehow, that Draco did not hold a power over Harry; Harry held a power over him. It was something strange, something so odd.

She thought they might be lovers, but they were not. They never would be because Draco was content to love from a distance. Harry was not – he was a tactile person. He craved the warmth of a lover's hand.

She wondered, bewildered, if she should give her approval – should she let Harry – should she _convince_ Harry that Draco Malfoy was worth seducing? She didn't know. She wondered if she even _wanted_ to know.

Harry had called her, and he was _happy_. Draco wasn't there, but somehow he managed to overwhelm her with his presence. It was his presence that thrummed in Harry's blood. Draco was in Harry's veins, he was in Harry in a way Hermione might never comprehend. This was something like love – no, it was like _passion_. Hermione knew love – she knew its ups and downs well. Loving Ron had taught her well. And she understood it; she also understood that there were no words to describe a love where gender did not matter. It was not that either Draco or Harry were gay – Harry was, at the least, bisexual, but Draco was certainly not gay. Sometimes she wondered, but seeing him now – he was not gay. She knew it instinctively. Yet, he loved Harry with the passion only someone who never loved before could love. And she wondered if he'd ever loved anyone else. Harry certainly had loved Ginny – but he made a mistake in thinking that love was the passionate emotion that the romance novels described. Veela romance novels did nothing for the truth. No romance novel could ever really touch upon the crux of the matter that was love. Love was an emotion that surpassed everything. It went beyond the normal grasp of things.

And she knew somehow, that Draco – if he had managed to live through the war, it was because he loved. Anything so filled with hatred, so consumed with it could not understand love, let alone its power.

Her mind was telling her something. Except she couldn't understand it – because it was impossible – Draco hadn't died, Lucius Malfoy hadn't managed to hit anything, by a miracle… or perhaps he had. Hermione remembered seeing Ginny fall to the ground, hit by the blinding green… Lucius Malfoy had held the wand that uttered the curse.

She knew that. It was all so logical.

And Hermione Granger, soon to be Weasley, was ruled by logic and sometimes passion, when she could be convinced passion was worth it.

And she rather thought Draco Malfoy was worth it, but she knew that as much as Harry loved him, as much as she was amused by the idea of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy – she knew it could never be. It was the tragedy of unrequited love. Although Draco certainly loved Harry, it was not the same way Harry loved Draco. And Draco was leaving. She knew it the way she knew where the sun went down as night fell. She knew it as though she'd learned it. She saw it in the way Draco looked at Harry, so full of love and so filled with regret… and within there – there was a whisper of goodbye.

* * *

– Unknown

* * *

A/N: It's short, yes. Sorry… Drop me a line, if you will. 

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

I might be missing something. This is a bit disconcerting. I usually like using quotes… but I can't find anything.

**Review Response:**

**Kanui d'Astor**: Thanks! I'm a bit worried about this story because it didn't stick to my plot outline… but that's okay, if you still like it.

**Adhiana**

**InuyashanKagomerlovers**: Yes, Draco's supposed to be confusing… he's a bit of a mystery.

Thanks for reviewing! So, I'm going to be a bit busy… I'm always busy, aren't I? But, on the bright side, I'm looking to updating my other accounts on the other websites. So, hopefully I'll get them all in order at some point. I hope you enjoyed this so far; review if you wish (or see an error I didn't catch!)

Keir


	18. VII: It's All Over

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Your bottle's almost empty

You know this can't go on

…

You're on the edge and falling off"

* * *

**Chapter****XVII**

**It's All Over**

Draco was tired. And Harry noticed it. He noticed it in the whiteness of Draco's skin, which had turned sickly looking. He wondered if Draco _was_ sick.

"Are you sick?" Harry asked him.

"No," said Draco. "Just thinking.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Yeah."

Harry wondered what it was. Draco seemed to be in pain, a pain that Harry could not comprehend, let alone help with.

Draco, despite what Harry thought, _wasn't_ sick. He was just tired. And his energy levels were lagging. If Madam Pomfrey or any other mediwitch or wizard had bothered to check, they would've been shocked to see that his magick levels were nearly drained. Magick, they would say, was essential. And the only time magick could lower itself, truly was when it was being burned as a life force because the wizard or witch's life force was nearly or completely used up. It was the reason why wizards and witches lived for so long. A certain amount lengthened the amount a body was capable of living.

Draco wasn't so much as dying as he was fading away. And he would fade away, but he intended to do it somewhere far away from Harry – where Harry couldn't watch him fade.

He shivered almost violently, although the warm weather was slowly returning. Draco watched with some amusement, and some despair, as Harry worried about him. He was glad, though – because Harry was worried about something other than what he should be and what he wasn't.

Draco wondered if Harry was ready to heal. He hoped so.

xxx

Poets described the tragedy of life. The truth was, however, that there was no tragedy in life. It was a dramatic rehearsal of living. Life and misery both went well together because without misery, Life would never know, or notice joy enough to appreciate it.

Life was a rollercoaster and it had its highs and its lows. It was the ocean's tide, which ebbed away and came back in a sheer rush.

Harry felt he should have known it wouldn't last. He should have known that the world hated him too much to let him be happy – just for once.

And it was Draco who caused his unhappiness.

Harry followed Draco one day – and he realized that they were in the graveyard. And he realized that Draco first made a visit to Ginny's grave. He stood there, not looking at the ground, but with his feet planted apart and head thrown back to look at the sky. He seemed to be speaking, and Harry found out, that Draco and Ginny had betrayed him in the worse kind of way. Ginny had not cheated on him, but Ginny had planned her own death at Draco's hand. And it _was_ Draco who killed Ginny. And suddenly he understood – Ginny had completed the ancient charm his mother began. She completed it with her death. Draco had not completed it, as he'd said.

And then – and _then_ he saw Draco walk away, toward the place Narcissa Malfoy was buried. Harry followed, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. He saw Draco pause, and suddenly draw back. Harry froze. They were close enough that Harry could feel the warmth of Draco's skin, as faint as it was.

He began to wonder – then he realized that somebody else was there.

xxx

Lucius Malfoy knelt at Narcissa's grave. It was his shrine.

"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, we will have revenge. There will be a new darkness, my love. You will come back to me! I will bring you back. And we will rule the world in Darkness. Never mind you sided with the side of the angels, as they call it," he sneered. "You will be proud. I will be greater than Voldemort ever was. We will remake this world. Soon, Cissa, my love, we will be together again. The plan will be set forth. I promise you that."

He bent down to kiss the cold stone, before straightening and Disapparating.

xxx

"So now you know," Draco whispered. Harry jolted in shock, when Draco turned to look directly at him. "It never worked on me, you know. Not when we were kids, and not now. I'm good actor."

"How could you?" Harry whispered, still staring at the spot where Lucius Malfoy had been. He felt as though Draco had betrayed him.

"How could I keep the fact that my father is insane from you?" asked Draco, his voice suddenly shrill. "I kept it from you that my father's been insane for _years_? He lost his mind when Mother died. He wouldn't even bother to _stay_ for me – he didn't care. I was just something that came from that love they had, but it wasn't enough for _me_. There wasn't enough _room_ – not then, not ever. Not even when I gave up _everything_ to save them. They just didn't _care_!"

"Your mother did," Harry said quietly.

"And she died!" Draco said harshly. "The same way Ginny did."

Harry felt as though Draco had slapped him. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to sink beneath the ground and _die_. How _dare_ he bring that…?

_Oh, God,_ Harry thought. _He's right._

"Harry?" Draco suddenly seemed concerned and it was so _wrong_ – because he looked so sick and Harry thought that he shouldn't be concerned for somebody as selfish as he was.

Harry Apparated without any destination in mind – just thinking of someplace where he could get _away_ from everything.

* * *

– Three Days Grace

* * *

A/N: Well… let me know what you think! I don't know if the quote makes any sense, though…

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. Yes, I realize the lyrics passing as the chapter quote are the song "It's All Over." That's where the title of this chapter came from…

**Review Response:**

**Adhiana  
caz-felton-malfoy  
InuyashanKagomerlovers  
Kanui d'Astor  
twentyonenin**e

Thanks for reviewing! And for reading and waiting this long to get an update… a little over two months. It's less than what I thought you'd have to wait, but as you noticed, the wait between chapters is getting longer… what can I say? Anyway, I might not update again until December… possibly, if you're lucky, next month. I have too much stuff to do and my art teacher wants me to switch my major into Art… I'm soo tempted. Art is a piece of cake for me… people say I should… gah.

Whatever… sorry for the long wait. Review, if you wish!

KR

P.S: You only have about SIX chapters left to go before the ending... the ending is surprising if you're not expecting it. If you really want to know how it ends, all the clues are in the story. Everything - from the beginning to even here, there are clues. Just keep in mind that this is a "love-from-a-distance" sort of thing. As in, Harry loves Draco, but Draco doesn't quite love him in the same way. Except, Draco does love him back, but they're not meant to be.


	19. XVIII: When You Fall

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly."

**

* * *

**

Chapter **XVIII**

**When You Fall**

Hermione wasn't surprised when it came crashing down. She _was_ surprised when Harry appeared in her living room. Aside from that, she wasn't surprised to hear that Draco Malfoy had kept it from them – from _Harry_ that Lucius Malfoy was indeed alive and plotting some new dastardly deeds. Hermione paused. Since when did she use the word _dastardly_? _Okay, Hermione_, she thought, _no more Veela romance – no more historical romance novels for you!_

She was surprised, however at _how_ Harry took it. Ron looked smug when they – Harry and Hermione, went to tell him about this new discovery. He'd known Lucius Malfoy was up to something, and he'd been waiting for Draco Malfoy to make it into an utter disaster.

"See?" he said. "What did I tell you? Never trust a Malfoy. They're all good-for-nothings! They don't keep their word – they're all scum."

Hermione wanted to tell him that he was wrong. She was sure that Draco hadn't meant to hurt Harry by keeping it from him – that Lucius was making plans – that he wanted to become a new Dark Lord.

She was sure that Draco had been ashamed of the idea that his father could be insane – at the idea that Draco could not have been _enough_ to keep his father happy. That he couldn't make his father happy enough to stay sane after his mother's death.

But Ron thought what he always thought – Malfoys were scum. They never did anything unless it was to hurt somebody.

xxx

Draco was surprised when he went into a coughing fit when he took the first drag of his God-knew-what-number cigarette of the day. He coughed, and placed a hand to his chest. Recovering, he straightened and looked up at the sky. He didn't stop himself from taking another drag from the Marlboro. He exhaled, letting the smoke come out through his nose. Then another drag. He coughed again, and began wondering what was _wrong_ with him. He _never_ coughed anymore when he smoked.

Sighing, he leaned back against the wall. He wondered where Harry was. He took in another drag and this time he choked. He couldn't breathe.

He went into a world that was made up of trying to get oxygen into his lungs. Once he recovered, he decided to crush his cigarette.

"Oi! Malfoy," said a voice he recognized from his past.

"Weasley," he acknowledged.

"You've hurt Harry."

"I didn't mean to. I was going to tell him eventually. When I – when I could figure out how to begin telling him."

"Yeah right," said Fred.

Draco looked at him. "I'm glad it's you and not your brother."

"Ron?" When Draco nodded, Fred scoffed. "Yeah. You'd be dead."

"I might be dead," murmured Draco. "I don't remember."

Fred gave him a curious look. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Draco, automatically, but he was uneasy. He felt off-balance. His energy wasn't the same as it had been.

"All right," said Fred. "Now, kid, come with me. We're going to the Order. It's still around… We've called an emergency meeting. We're going to Hermione's flat."

"Are you sure they'll be all right with me?"

"It's only my family, Harry, Hermione, and McGonagall. The rest aren't – they can't go to the meeting on such a short notice. It's peacetime, if you'll notice."

"Yeah. And my father wants to start another war."

"Of course he does."

"He loved my mother," Draco said. "He loved her more than he loved me."

Fred made a noncommittal sound in his throat.

"He did. He still loves her… and it's driven him mad."

xxx

"What exactly happened?" Arthur Weasley wanted to know.

"Draco Malfoy's been living with me," Harry said wearily. "He's... taking care of me, I guess. I don't know. It's been so strange lately…"

"Yes," said Charlie. "Ron said something about depression and that Malfoy kid."

"He's twenty-six," said Hermione, dryly. "He's no longer a child."

"Yes, but he upset Harry, didn't he?" asked Arthur. "And what for? A personal vendetta his father has. Malfoys are synonymous with scum."

"It was personal," Fred said as he walked into the room, looking around it. "But I'll let him explain."

Minerva McGonagall could not believe what she was seeing. Draco Malfoy walked into the room. She stared at the young man. For a moment all she saw was the image of the troubled, self-destructive child he had been once, long ago. Then she saw the unhealthy pale skin, the way he was too thin.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said softly, aghast. "Are you ill?"

Draco looked at his old Transfiguration teacher. He shook his head, not bothering with a verbal response.

He looked around the room, taking everyone in and acknowledging who was there.

"My father never loved me," he said softly. "I've never been loved, so I do not know the power of a love like my parents. My parents' marriage was not an arranged marriage. It was… a love marriage. You – you Weasleys, and – you, Granger, I assume, you've never known what was like to grow up with parents who loved each other to the point it surpassed everything – including their own child. My mother was – _fond_ of me, but… my father had eyes only for my mother." Draco looked at them. "I don't need pity, or anything from any of you. When my mother was killed in front of my father… he… broke down."

"Broke down?"

"He… went insane." Draco looked at the floor. "He believed that Mother was still alive. He would talk to her constantly… he thought _I_ was her, sometimes. Other times… he… was very upset that I was still alive and she wasn't." Draco looked up at them, hesitating, "Those where the times he tried to kill me. I learned to watch his moods – if he was angry, I'd stay out of his way – I learned that, right after I was forcing him to eat and he took his fork and stabbed me with it." Draco shrugged. "He's not sane. I can't go and talk to him, because… well, either he'd kill me, or he'd _really_ go mad."

"Isn't he crazy already?" asked Ron.

"Yes… but, I mean, he might go beyond all appearances of sanity and start screaming about the fact that I'm the devil himself, or God knows what else."

"He thinks you're dead, then?" Bill Weasley looked at him for confirmation. Draco hesitated. He remembered the look in his father's eyes, the rage – and the utter lack of morals the night that he'd… disappeared.

They took his silence as acquiesce.

"Right," said George. "So… what he's planning."

"Simply or complexly?" asked Draco.

When they just looked at him, he sighed. "He wants my mother back. He's going to kill anyone involved in her death – directly or indirectly. He doesn't care. The only way that's _strong_ enough for Mother to come back completely and not become some kind of Inferi… zombie, as they say, or whatever kind of living dead that would be under his control, is a soul exchange. He'll exchange a soul for hers. The problem with that is that he needs the one responsible for her death."

"How's that a problem?" asked Charlie.

"Percy Weasley is dead, and Lucius can't do the spell if he kills himself. So, he's trying to capture a soul. He wants to take over the world, as well. He'll take over where Voldemort left off."

"This is bloody brilliant," said Ron. "Your father's off his cracker, you _are_ dead insofar as the world's concerned, and we've got no way of stopping him, let alone arresting him. We've just got the word of Lucius Malfoy's son. Lucius Malfoy's _dead_ son."

"I've got something better than my word… better than the blood that runs through my veins," said Draco slowly.

They looked at him.

Draco looked at them with a sly look – one that reminded Ron, Hermione, and Harry of the Malfoy they'd known in their first year, with Hagrid's dragon.

"I've got solid proof of Lucius Malfoy's every crime."

They gaped at him.

"My father wants revenge against the world for what he lost," Draco said in a strange voice. "But I want _my_ revenge."

"You want revenge on your father?" Ron sounded horrified.

"Why?" asked Arthur. He seemed to be shocked, just as every one in the room was.

"I don't hate him," Draco said. "I _can't_ hate him – he's my father, after all." He seemed to be talking to himself. "The first memory I have of my father is when he took me in his arms after I told him I was afraid of the storm outside. He took me outside and he sat down with me, watching the lightning for a while. Then he told me to wait – he had to go and get something. I was four. I waited, but he never came back. I went back to the Manor, scared, cold, and wet, but he'd locked the doors against me. I remember what he said – Malfoys are never afraid. I knew then that he hated me on some level, but I convinced myself that he didn't really hate me." He laughed, bitterly. "I knew nothing of love, nothing of anything but fear and pain. I thought the rest of the world was like that. It was all I knew. I want revenge for that. And… I blame him for my mother's death. She trained me, you know. She was the best spy in the history of anything, and she taught me everything she knew. She told me, it'd be up to me to take her place if she was caught and killed."

"You!" said Minerva, in a wondering voice. "You were the other spy – the one that sent us all the information after Narcissa died…"

xxx

Harry sighed. He was so angry, so tired of being angry, so tired of being so emotionally – tense. They had made plans to get rid of Lucius Malfoy. He couldn't imagine hating his own father. He looked at the closed door of Draco's room and wondered what it was like to grow up like that and still somehow manage to be the way Draco was. He understood it.

He closed his eyes.

"He seems so angry," Hermione had whispered to him. "So… _disturbed_."

"He's faking it," Harry had replied, and as he said it, he realized the truth in it. Draco knew that they wouldn't understand his desire for absolution – but they'd understand anger – the belated teenage rebellion. So he'd given them what they'd expected. A motive other than a desire To-Do-The-Right-Thing – revenge, because it was what they expected. And Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin born and bred. Slytherins did _not_ want To-Do-The-Right-Thing, they wanted power over anything. They'd stop at nothing, everyone said. Draco knew this, and so he'd faked the anger. Harry knew that Draco did not hate his father – he didn't want revenge. He wanted his father to be well. And Harry understood that Draco wanted his father to find peace. And if it meant sentencing him to death, then so be it. It was the Right-Thing-To-Do.

"Faking it?" Hermione had whispered. "Why."

"Because it's the only thing anyone would believe of Draco Malfoy, of an ex-Death Eater."

And Draco had locked himself into his room.

And now, alone in his bedroom – with Draco or anyone, really, nowhere near him, Harry could hear Draco's words. "_And she died! The same way Ginny did."_

_She died._

The words echoed and echoed through his head.

But Draco was _wrong_ – Ginny… no matter what he or Draco said, it was Harry's fault. Ginny died because of him – Harry _fucking_ Potter. And Harry saw the knife. For a moment, for a fleeting moment, he felt guilty. He felt ashamed. He _shouldn't_ do this. He was _hurting_ other people around him. But it made him feel so _good_.

It released his mental anguish over Ginny's death.

_LET IT GO!_

Everyone said that. Ginny was dead, let it go. Forget it, it was in the past. But _how_ could he forget it when Ginny was _dead_.

_She died._

Harry took the knife and carved it into his skin, right over the veins of his wrists. Draco was too upset now, Harry thought. He wouldn't come out and find him. This time – _this_ time he could finally just _die_. He hissed as the knife sank into his skin and he wondered if it was from the pain or relief.

He lay down on the floor, thinking that he could finally just let it all go.

xxx

"He's not normal," Luna Lovegood said, looking at Colin. Colin looked at her, and squinted at the pictures. He had noticed the strangeness of the pictures of Draco – the way he was always surrounded by light. Light followed him; it seemed, even in shadows, his skin glowed with an ethereal light.

"It's just the color of his skin," Colin said. "Look, the prints are black and white. His skin is really pale, and the distortion comes in the film, because it doesn't quite know what to make of it."

"No," said Luna softly. "I'm going to go and talk to an old friend of his."

"Who?" asked Colin.

Luna smiled. "Gregory Goyle."

"I thought he was dead."

"No. Goyle works at St. Mungo's with Neville Longbottom. He has a strange gift for someone as dull as he seems. He knows how to heal people. He's not a mediwizard exactly, but he does help them out in many ways."

Colin looked after Luna, wondering what she was on about.

xxx

"Harry said Malfoy's faking it," said Ron. "I'm sure he's right about that – it has to be a trap. Malfoys don't do anything unless it's for some selfish gain."

"Have you ever considered that maybe Malfoy's different now?"

"What do you mean, Hermione? Draco Malfoy is never going to change. _Ever_ – he's still the dirty Death Eating scum he always was."

Hermione wasn't convinced. "Let's go and talk to Harry," she said. "If anyone knows this Draco Malfoy, he might know him."

Ron went with her, a protest on his mouth that died the moment they walked in through the door to find Harry lying in a pool of his own blood.

xxx

_He was walking. It was a long, long road. He walked, listening to the sounds of water lapping against the shores. For a moment, he stopped, wondering if he ought to turn around and look back. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of a figure standing in the water. He thought it was a statue, as he moved toward it – toward the blinding light that came from it. No, he thought – the light did not come from the figure itself. It came from all around it, surrounding it. For a moment, he thought he saw wings, but it was just the shadow that the figure cast._

_He walked toward this figure and he came close enough to see the slightly long flowing hair._

_"You cannot come further," the figure said softly._

_"Why not?" he asked, suddenly angry. He wanted to go further. Past this figure._

_Slowly the figure shook its head. "No. Not yet, Harry. It is not your time yet."_

_"When will it be my time?" he cried out. "I want Ginny – want my parents, I want my life back!"_

_"You will not find the life you wish was yours in death," the figure standing in his way said. "You must go back."_

_"I don't want to go back! I hate it there – it's all so full of shame, of suffering – of guilt! I'm so tired of it all."_

_"You have made it so," the figure said quietly. "It does not have to be that way, Harry. You have always been the optimist. You must find yourself. You will survive this obstacle, if you give yourself the chance to heal. Stop picking at the wounds a life has made and allow them to heal."_

_"They will not heal," said Harry. "It's been so long…"_

_"The wounds in your heart will heal with time – you have gone too long feeling the pain. You must allow yourself to heal, Harry. Now, go back to where you were. There are people there who need you still. You are loved, Harry. No matter how dark, how full of despair you are, you are loved – wanted. Your friends wait for you."_

_Harry turned around, but before he walked away, he asked, "When will I know when it is time?"_

_"I will come to you and take you by the hand," the figure replied._

_Harry paused before whispering the question, "How will I know who you are?"_

_"_Wake up, Harry_!"__ a voice said from far, far away. "_Wake up for me, love_." The voice was soothing, gentle – and there was a familiarity – a warmth…_

_Harry moved toward it._

xxx

"Oh my God!" Ron said in horror.

"Harry!" Hermione rushed to Harry, but she could only heal his wounds, and cry bitterly. "Why?" she whispered. "WHY! Damn you!"

Then suddenly someone else was there, pushing her out of the way. Gentle hands reached for Harry. Pale hands, with long slender fingers gently touched Harry's face.

"What do you think you're doing, you sick fuck?" Ron yelled, angrily. But Draco, for it was Draco, ignored him, sliding his hands under Harry's shirt to touch Harry's chest. He placed another hand on the crown of Harry's head.

"He's not breathing," Hermione said. She choked back a sob. "Oh, God! He can't die… I just – I – he _can't_."

Draco leaned forward, and his hair fell to cover his face, but she saw him.

Ron reacted almost violently, reaching out to grab Draco and roughly pull him away.

But Draco stayed steady and breathed on Harry, whispering, "Wake up, Harry." In the lengthening shadows of the room, Draco seemed to be filled with an inner light as he whispered, placing a hand over Harry's eyes, stroking down his cheek and whispering, "Wake up for me, love."

Harry's eyes blinked open, unfocused.

"Draco?" he said hoarsely. "What…"

_How will I know who you are? Harry asked._

_I'm your guardian angel_, _Draco told him._

* * *

– Unknown

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

None that I'm aware of… But I might be wrong

**Review Response:**

**DarkWing0**

**caz-felton-malfoy**

**Redbat:** Thanks!

**InuyashanKagomerlovers**

**ylime-fles:** I'm sorry you feel like crying, but I'm happy my little story here moved to you feel some emotion.

**Shining Bright Eyes:** Hey, you caught a hint! If you look a little harder you might figure it out. Thanks, by the way.

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! So you've now got FIVE chapters to go before the end… hopefully I'll update again this month. I don't know if I will though because I'm going to the other end of the country for the holiday….It was snowing the other day… I'm torn between running out and trying to catch snow in my hands (it melts, as always), or staying indoors in the warmth. Oh, well. I'm out of time, so – I hope you enjoyed this chapter (and catch the clues, yes?). Oh, about the snow – are there any good Harry/Draco stories that have something to do with snow?

Keir Raizel the evil genius

P.S: Please review, I'd appreciate it if you do! You don't have to though; I'll still update eventually. Lol.


	20. XIX: Angels

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Treat people like angels; you will meet some and help make some."

**

* * *

**

Chapter **XIX**

**Angels**

"Draco Malfoy is an angel," Gregory Goyle said to Luna Lovegood. She blinked. That was the last thing she expected.

"How do you know?"

Gregory looked at her and then said slowly, "I asked him, when we were younger. When we first met – he was… he was beautiful." Gregory, or Goyle, as he thought of himself, looked away and remembered when he'd met Draco Malfoy.

x-x-x

_"You will watch Draco Malfoy."_

_"Who is that?"_

_"Lucius Malfoy's son. He's very special, Gregory. Watch him."_

_Father and son walked out of the carriage and walked into the huge Manor that was Malfoy Manor._

_"Draco is outside," Lucius said, looking down at him, a hidden sneer in his face but Gregory chose not to acknowledge it. He walked away and stopped short on the terrace leading outside. There, sitting on a bench next to a lake with its very own waterfall, was a boy – a shining boy that was surrounded by softly falling light. He approached him carefully; he didn't want to scare him away._

_"Are you an angel?" he asked this boy._

_"No," he said, looking at him with eyes that were the color of the clouds when they had a silver of light around them. "I'm Draco."_

_"That's your name," Gregory said. "I'm Goyle."_

_"Goyle?" Draco blinked. "That's a strange name."_

_"It's Gregory really, but Goyle is fine."_

_"Okay," Draco said._

_He bit his lip. "Are you an angel?"_

_Draco looked at him, considering it. "I don't have wings," he said._

_"You might get some later."_

_Draco looked thoughtful. "Maybe," he said._

_He knew that Draco had stopped thinking, stopped hoping he was an incognito angel. And he remembered telling him, whispering through the closet door where the twelve-year-old Draco had hidden himself, "If people knew who the angels were, they would be very nice when they saw one and would still do their same evil garbage when they thought none were around. Knowing who they are defeats the purpose."_

_Draco had pushed the door to open to stare at him. "Maybe you're the angel, Goyle."_

_"No," he said, leading Draco back into their dorm. "You're the angel, Draco. Here take a look." And he handed him a picture of the two them. Goyle looked normal, but Draco glowed with inner light._

_"It's just the lighting," Draco said quickly._

_"Don't worry," he told Draco. "I won't tell anyone you're an angel."_

_And later, when Draco went to join the Death Eaters because his father said so – and his mother needed him, he turned to his friend and gave him one last order. "Don't follow me, Goyle. This is the way I am going. I have stopped guiding you and you are to find your own way now."_

_"But –" he said._

_"No, Goyle. People think you protect me. But you can't protect me from my own darkness. I have to do this on my own. Off with you, now. It's my duty, you know." Draco smiled at him. "You have a life, Goyle. Live it."_

_And that was the last time he'd ever seen him._

xxx

"That's screwed up," Blaise said, shaking his head. He looked at Luna, and then at Goyle.

"Look at this," said Goyle, suddenly. He rummaged through his robes, before he found it. He pulled out an old, slightly wrinkled photograph. Like all Wizarding photographs, the picture moved.

"Crabbe took this picture," Goyle said. "Draco was trying to teach him about photography."

Blaise and Luna looked at it and recognized the eleven year olds in the picture. Goyle was there, he was in sharp contrast to Draco, who was blurry, but shining with a light that might have been the sun.

"It was cloudy that day," he said. "No reason for that light that surrounded him. But look, in every single picture anyone ever took of Draco Malfoy, he's surrounded by light. Even when it's dark."

"It's something inside him," Blaise said, staring at the most recent picture of Draco – the one that Colin had taken.

"It could be something natural," Luna said.

"If it's you suggesting it, then it's not," said Blaise. He shook his head. "Draco Malfoy's an angel?"

"Who knows," said Goyle. "I thought he was dead."

"Didn't we all," said Luna.

"But he's not an angel," said Blaise, suddenly. "He told me that, years ago – why he's always surrounded by light – it's his skin tone. It's too light, and so the camera lens accepts it as light, rather than a color. He claimed it happened a lot with his mother too."

"That makes sense," said Luna, sounding disappointed. "It would've been wonderful if he were an angel."

Goyle only looked at the picture without saying a word.

xxx

It was only logical that the Wizarding world would find out that Draco Malfoy was alive.

It was ironic that they discovered he was alive when they showed up at Ron's door, trying to get a glimpse of Harry because someone had spotted him walking into Ron's flat.

Ron had been chafed at the thought that Draco Malfoy was in his home, but it didn't matter. Harry opened the door, and Draco was right behind him. They slammed the door shut.

"I hope they didn't get a picture of me," said Draco.

"Speaking of pictures of you," said Fred, who was with them at the moment, "what's with the lighting? See, in every single damned picture – you look like you're glowing."

"It's my skin," said Draco with a grimace. "One of the many reasons why I hate it."

"Does it burn?" Hermione asked curiously, looking at Draco's so very pale skin. It looked like a few minutes in the hot arid sunlight, it would burn.

"No," said Draco. "The only change it ever got was when I was in Africa. It freckled in the sunlight. I didn't bother with sunscreen because I never burn. I don't burn, I don't tan. I just stay pretty much white." Draco sighed, glancing at his skin. "I wanted skin like Harry's," he said mournfully. "It _tans_. My just doesn't do _anything_ at all. I had to charm it darker in school – right at the beginning of the year because it was so strange that I'd spend all that time in France _and_ Egypt without changing." He brightened. "But my hair always got lighter. It was normal blonde when I was born, but it changed colors as I grew older and into platinum blonde. I spent too much time outdoors on a broomstick, playing Quidditch or other games."

"Oh," said Fred. He glanced at Draco's hair.

"I like you this way," Hermione suddenly said.

Draco looked at her, questioningly.

"You're being nice. And not just that, but your hair suits you more than it did before. It's longer."

Draco fingered his hair. "I cut it a while back. It got so long – almost to my waist…" He sighed. "I love my hair. Isn't it _gorgeous_?"

"Are you sure you're not gay?" Fred asked.

"Fairly positive," Draco reassured him. He tilted his head and looked contemplatively at Harry. "Though, Harry _is_ good kisser."

Ron choked.

"What?" asked Draco. "He's _gorgeous_, a great kisser – he's wonderful… well, maybe a little screwed up in the head, but otherwise, he's _fine_." Draco drew out the last word so it had more than one syllable.

Harry stared at Draco.

"Stop that," Hermione scolded him.

Draco grinned at Hermione. "What?" He looked at Harry and sighed. "We're going to have a talk, you and me, Harry James Potter. I don't care that your friends want to walk around on eggshells, but the point is, you _did_ attempt suicide – _again_. So, we're going to have a talk. You and me – all right?"

Harry nodded. He'd wondered when they were going to bring this up – his failed suicide attempt.

xxx

Draco sat down, waiting for Harry to speak.

For the most part, no one had wanted to mention it. No one wanted to talk about it – as though not mentioning it would make it go away.

"I just wanted the pain to go away," Harry said softly.

"I did too," said Draco looking away from him. "In long part of my past, long since forgotten by the few that knew and unknown to most of the world, I wanted to get rid of the pain."

"You could never be suicidal. You're too vain."

Draco looked at him. "No," he said, slowly. "I wasn't always this pretty, you know. There was a time my body was covered in scars. It took a long time for them to heal. It took me a long time to accept myself." Draco looked at him steadily. "Part of the reason why I am the way I am, is because I died – literally. Maybe it wasn't for very long, and maybe they got me back in the end, but the truth is I've tasted what lies beyond death. I'm not afraid of it – it will come when I am ready for it and not a moment too soon or too late."

Harry looked at him. "I had a strange dream," he said, "when I was unconscious. I dreamed I was walking away from the land and into the waters of shining light. I saw someone. They told me it was not my time. I asked them when I would know it was my time, and they said they'd come and take me by the hand. I asked him then, how would I know who they were. You answered me. You said you were my guardian angel."

Draco tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "Maybe," he said softly, "you're almost done finding yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm your guardian angel," Draco said softly. "I'm bound by a promise I made on the brink of death. On the brink of this life and the next, I promised with my blood, with my soul – my _life_ – that I'd watch over you. I have watched over you for many years now." Draco smiled slightly. "Since the day Ginny died. We miscalculated a part of the spell. And I was bound to it. That is how I knew to come to you that first time you tried doing away with yourself."

"But you're human," said Harry.

"Perhaps," said Draco, with an odd smile. "There's this saying… 'Be kind to everyone. Because you never know when you're meeting an angel.'"

Harry frowned at him.

"_Are_ you an angel?" he asked. "Because I'm starting to believe that you might be."

Draco looked at him. "If a human being were to answer that question truthfully, the answer would be no. And if an angel were to answer that question, the answer would be some version of no."

"So maybe you _are_ an angel sent here to torment me," said Harry.

Draco shook his head. "I'm here if you want my help. I can heal you, if you want me to."

"So you are an angel?"

"I want to be an angel,"said Draco. "There's a difference."

"Why?" asked Harry. "Why do you want to be an angel?"

"Because Goyle thought I was," Draco said simply. "He treated me like one – always."

Harry could only stare at him. Draco smiled gently. "So, do you want me to help you heal or not?"

"Yes," Harry whispered. "I want the pain to go away."

"The pain will never go away; pain is a part of being human... and living," Draco told him gently. "But this pain will get easier to carry and someday, you'll realize that you've let it go."

* * *

– Unknown

* * *

A/N: What do you think of this? I feel so corny sometimes… Honestly, I can't help it. I'm a poet and I've got the books to prove it.

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. If people knew who the angels were, they would be very nice when they saw one and would still do their same evil garbage when they thought none were around. Knowing who they are defeats the purpose.

2. There's this saying… 'Be kind to everyone. Because you never know when you're meeting an angel.

3. If a human being were to answer that question truthfully, the answer would be no. And if an angel were to answer that question, the answer would be some version of no. (Note: the original quote is talking about floating angels, not the angels talked about in this story)

All quotes here come from _What Happened to Lani Garver?_

Review Response:

**twentyonenine: **really? Thanks! It's a funny story, actually about the whole "evil" genius thing – but I'm not telling. Except it involved hysterical laughter at the airport. 

**InuyashanKagomerlovers**: It does, doesn't it? I don't think I'm giving away the ending by saying that in a way, Draco _is_ dying. He knows it, too – that's why Harry and Draco can't be together. He knows he won't be around for later. If you go back, in the story, you'll find a clue as to what's going on with that. You more or less picked it up. As for Harry trying to kill himself, well, from what I understand, it never really stops. The urge never goes away – I've never actually seriously tried to commit suicide, but I assume most people have at one point or another idly wondered what would happen if they did, or at least I have. I decided against it because, you know, what if death's a whole lot worse than life? And besides imagine what they'd say up there 'committed suicide because of boredom?' nah. I'd miss the New York sights too much even if they're background images (I can bore you with trying to describe that particular shade of orange or snowy-mud brown, but I'll spare you my idle babble). But even in the psychology texts, it says most people don't recover from it, really. They can stop hurting themselves after a while, but the urge never really goes away. This story, I think I mentioned that I felt I couldn't really put myself in their shoes to get it emotionally correct – (that sounds so awkward – sorry, beta-me speaking), but I did try to see it the way they would if I were them. I don't know if I succeeded or not, I hope I did, but it didn't really turn out the way I thought it would. Sorry about babbling. Blame on the lack of sleep. 

**Attention Deficit**: Oh, don't worry about Nirvana. She's gone from the story. I can't remember who got it, but someone did. And it's easy enough – Nirvana le Engel. Her first name is in the full name. But unless you're going to read Book of Shadows (the slashy sequel to Prophetic Resolution), it doesn't really matter. If you really want to know – she's one of the major characters – not in the inner sanctum of the Trio, but very close.

**SerenityMelody**: Interesting… I didn't really mean to make Ron that way, but I did think it was in character with the canon character. I know I always classify my characters as OOC because no one but J.K. Rowling can really make the characters in canon, but I did try to make his actions fit as best as possible to the canon. Does that make sense?

**Shining Bright Eyes:** ghostlike… I like that word. Hope you enjoyed the interaction between Goyle and the rest.

Okay... so I answered everyone, despite my being tired. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to update again soon. Let me know if you see any errors because after I finish this, I'll go back and fix the errors. Beta-me winces every time I go back and read my stories because I always pick up a glaring error I totally missed the first time and second time around. Question: whose up for a fic where I crossover Btvs and Harry Potter by making Spike related to the Malfoys? For those of you who don't know what that means - Buffy x-over with Harry Potter. I have a one-shot up that's something like that - "When Harry met Buffy". I've been told it makes no sense, but it's hysterically funny. Honestly, I'm not sure what I was thinking. Beta-me winces a lot re-reading that one. So, I'm off to sleep now.

Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter and you've got FOUR chapters left!

Keir Raizel the evil genius

P.S: I don't hold back chapters if I don't get reviews nor do I demand them, but I do like reviews - so please, REVIEW! Constructive criticisms are welcomed, destructive and demeaning comments are not.


	21. XX: Goodbyes

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"If saying goodbye hurts so much, why do we say goodbye? Because it hurt so much more to keep holding on to something that isn't there."

**

* * *

**

Chapter **XX**

**Goodbyes**

The first time he realized he was in love – or what he thought was love, was right after Slughorn's class. He remembered how Ginny had walked into their conversation at the end of that class. He remembered the way he'd turned his head, smelling that flowery scent. He could remember the way she kissed him – he could remember the way he'd truly thought that he'd loved her.

He could remember the bittersweet pain when he broke up with her, shortly after Albus Dumbledore's death. He remembered watching her from afar, longing for her warm arms. Longing for her willingness, and for a moment he wondered if it had not been a true love, after all. He had thought that perhaps he was guilty of not loving her enough… but perhaps he had loved her the best way he knew how when he'd been so young…

"You're not guilty of the crime you had accused yourself with," Draco whispered in his ear. "But keep remembering it. In remembering, you'll let go."

Harry nodded, trying desperately not to cry.

They stood at Ginny's grave.

Harry closed his eyes and remembered.

xxx

_It was so awkward, after they broke up. Harry was nervous, ashamed – because he and Ginny were no longer together. He was afraid that Ron and his brothers would attack him for leaving Ginny._

_"It's your misguided sense of protecting those you love," Ginny whispered in his memory. She had loved him, Harry thought. And he remembered what it was like – to find out that Ginny had followed them as they searched for the Horcruxes. He remembered how she'd fought alongside him, during the last battle he'd fought with Voldemort._

_He remembered hearing people scream. He remembered – if for a brief moment, the way Draco, for he knew it was Draco now, stood there in front of him and Ginny. He saw, in his memory, the way Ginny met Draco's eyes and nodded slightly. He saw, the push the Death Eater who had to be Lucius Malfoy gave him._

_"Do it," he heard someone say. He could remember the taunting – Draco had never been a killer, he could not stomach the idea of killing someone. Yet Ginny had glared at him, and he raised his wand and uttered the words._

_Harry wondered, briefly, if Draco had done it, in part, to please his father, who clasped his shoulder and walked away. It was Lucius Malfoy that Harry had gone after. The way he was so proud of himself enough to rip off his mask halfway through the battle angered Harry. He stepped over Ginny's body, determined to kill Lucius Malfoy, when suddenly he found himself face to face with the Dark Lord._

_The memories blurred here. He didn't quite know what it was – but he could remember someone yelling the fatal curse. Someone, he didn't know who jumped in front of the curse. He didn't know who it was, but it bothered him, teasing at the edges of his conscious memory._

_Suddenly, the memories of the war were replaced with Ginny's smiling face._

_"I love you," she said softly. She leaned forward and kissed him._

xxx

Harry opened his eyes to find that he was crying, tears streaming down his face. Draco was looking at him, his eyes calm.

He looked down at the flowers Draco had made him bring.

"They mean farewell," he'd said, when he'd shoved them into his hands.

Harry slowly set them down on the grave and kissed the cool stone with Ginny's name.

Then he turned to Draco, who opened his arms and gave him a hug as Harry tried to stifle his crying.

It wasn't what Harry had thought it would be. He thought it would harsher, harder, but it had not been harder. In a sense, it _was_ hard, but not the way he'd imagined it to be.

xxx

Draco knew that death was a painful subject. The idea of letting someone go. It did not mean that one forgot them. It meant that they allowed their pain to leave. The living and the dead have nothing to share, except memories, he knew that. Draco also knew that the pain of the living was nothing but their attempts at convincing themselves they had truly loved. Yet, love and pain were not the same thing. Grief was normal, natural, but it was a moment of goodbye. It came after goodbye – not before. Harry had never grieved because he had never truly said goodbye to the first person he'd ever given himself to.

It was not just physically, but in everything.

Draco could remember the pain of losing someone and he could remember it well.

Harry, he realized, was trying not to cry.

"Cry," he whispered. "There is no shame in tears for that that hurts us. Didn't you know? Tears are the healing waters of heaven. Even God cries." Harry was listening to him, Draco knew. "It rains when God cries. And after the rain, the world seems a little brighter and that's because it's beginning to heal."

"Will it ever go away completely?"

"No," said Draco quietly. "But in time, this too, will pass." Draco cleaned Harry's face with a handkerchief. "Pain is a fleeting emotion, a very human emotion. Without pain, you would not be human. Death is so final, so empty – but you will survive it because you are alive. To live means to _feel_. If you do not feel, how would you live?"

"I can't let her go," Harry whispered.

Draco smiled. "I think you already have," he said gently. "When you've said your goodbyes to everyone you need to, you will begin to heal and you will look back on these days as the darkness before the brilliance."

"How do you know there will be brilliance?"

"Because, Harry," said Draco, "if the night were never dark, how would we find the brightest of stars? How would we judge the brightness of the sun without the darkness that comes before? Goodbye is merely a word. People never leave you, they never die. They live forever within those that are left behind. Remember that, Harry."

* * *

– Unknown

* * *

A/N: THREE more chapters before it's over!

Sorry for the delay. Moving is a bitch, really. I save my stuff on my flashdrives – one which is the original and another to back it up – but when I moved – I panicked because I thought I'd accidentally left my flashdrive in the other place. What's worse – moving is awful on internet connections. I'm sorry about the shortness of this chapter… oh, well, we're getting closer to the end…

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

I get the feeling I have quotes in this chapter I'm just not catching…

**Review Response:**

**tora.of.the.sand**: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.

**Shining Bright Eyes**: Thank you. I actually didn't even realize I was doing that – revealing Draco or even the Christmas part of it.

**IceAlkhuan**: Hope you like this one!

**SerenityMelody**: Thanks for making me feel a little bit better… but I still think it's slightly corny.

**InuyashanKagomerlovers**: Draco's bisexual and he's well aware of the fact. Harry… well, I wrote it so that whether or not Harry is falling in love with Draco is up to the reader – or at least that was my intention. I wrote it in a state of mind where Harry would be a little more than infatuated with him. After all, Draco's saved Harry who is, for the most part, a Gryffindor all the way. Then again, I have a strange perception of what is Gryffindor…

Thank you for reading, reviewing – and to some people, for adding this story to their favorites. It turns me into a Keir-shaped puddle of goo. Anyway, this story is almost at its end. I'm a bit worried that the ending isn't going to be what you expect it to be… it's a bit of a twist… think Angel episode 8 season 1. Yes, that is one of my more pointed hints on the ending, but no one seems to be really picking it up all the way. I suppose it gives some of it away, but it's closer to the way the ending is meant to be. So, I hope you all enjoyed this – and I'm glad it snowed because I got a chance to sleep yesterday (classes were cancelled!) and today I get to update without sneaking it into my very busy schedule.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Keir Raizel the evil genius


	22. XXI: Grief

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"There should be a statute of limitation on grief. A rule book that says it is all right to wake up crying, but only for a month. "

**

* * *

**

Chapter

**XXI**

**Grief**

It seemed as though Harry had gone from trying to avoid Ginny's memory to recalling it as often as possible. He no longer merely remembered the fact that Ginny was indeed dead – he could be found saying, "Remember when Ginny…"

Draco watched and he faded a little more. Harry had his friends to help him now.

It was the strangest thing, to be a witness to grief. Grief was usually healthy, but Draco knew that it could go out of hand. And so, he stayed, watching over Harry.

Harry would cry, sometimes, but slowly he would smile.

Draco hovered in the corners, as he watched Harry.

The first few days were always the hardest.

"Will it get better than this?" Harry had asked him, brokenly.

Draco didn't lie when he said, "No. But it will get easier."

Many people who never lost anyone they truly cared about, assumed that the pain of losing someone would go away someday. That someday they would be able to laugh and smile and recall their loved ones without pain. But that was not the case; in the end, a person just learned to live with it.

Yet, there were many, many aspects of grief. Grief could be done on many different levels. No one had to die in order for a person to feel grief.

Draco didn't say anything on the days Harry woke up in tears. He didn't mention the things Harry didn't want to talk about unless he brought them up.

He knew that saying that he knew exactly how Harry felt would be useless. Trying to convince him that Ginny was in a better place would not help him. All too often, many people put their concerns in the person who was dead, not the person who had survived. And most people thought, like Seamus, that life moved on and the person needed to move on as well.

Grief was not like that, Draco knew.

xxx

"How do you cope with him?" Ron asked him one day. They were walking together. Draco didn't know why Ron had chosen to go with him to buy the groceries, but he had.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you deal with Harry?" Ron asked. "I… I didn't know he was still so upset about Ginny…"

"I know," said Draco simply. He stopped and looked into Ron's blue eyes, holding his gaze. "Grief is a fickle thing. It's the nature of humanity to believe that just because your pain is muted, the rest of the world's pain is muted. Harry… he never really let her go. He kept it with him. For him, it was a wound that festered inside of him. Letting her go had to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. Emotions don't play by any rules. They don't follow a pattern." Draco looked at him. "There's no rulebook that tells you how to grieve. There are no self-help books that tell you how to cope with the death of someone you loved so much. Everyone deals with it in their own way." Draco shrugged. "Maybe for you, your sister is gone. You've accepted it. But imagine if it had been Hermione who died. She isn't your sister – you _love_ her, with all the passion you have within you. You wouldn't be able to let her go very well. Maybe you would go into the bottle before you either died or clawed your way out. Maybe you'd do what Harry's doing." Draco shook his head. "He didn't accept it that Ginny died. He's only just come to accept it, _years_ later. I've watched people. For so long, maybe since I was too young to understand it, I've observed. Grief isolates people. Do you really think the people around you could ever understand the pain of losing a part of yourself to death?"

Ron blinked. "How do you know all of that? It's insane."

Draco shook his head. "You need to understand the capacity of emotions. My mother died, years ago. I did mourn her death, but I accepted it. I didn't dwell on it for years. Harry has dwelled on the fact that he might have saved Ginny. As for me, when my mother died, I didn't dwell on how I might have saved her." Draco shoved his hands into his pockets. "My mother loved me. I know that, and in a way, I returned the feeling for her. My father went insane – he _is_ insane, and you know what you have to do." Draco glared at him. "He's insane – he'll kill people because he wants my mother back. He's my father, but I know that he needs to be stopped. He – I don't even want to know if he's killed recently. He's a murderer, I admit that."

"I know. I've got people on the job," said Ron. "But we need to know his usual haunts."

"My mother's grave," Draco said instantly. "He spends a lot of time there."

"How –"

"Ronald, really," said Draco. "I can't tell you how I deal living with someone who is grieving for a girl who's been dead for nearly nine years now. I can't tell you how I dealt growing up with a sadistic father who finds great pleasure in the thought of killing people."

"You're different," said Ron suddenly, "from what I thought you'd be."

"I know," said Draco. There was an amused look in his eyes that made Ron uneasy.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Of what?" asked Draco. "Harry will never hurt me. He can't hurt me. I've been hurt to the point no one can hurt me anymore. I've seen it all. I do this for a living, you know. Let me do my job."

"What? You're a shrink?"

"No. I worked in a missionary," said Draco. "I was a counselor, because I apparently had a way with words. I had a way of listening to people and responding to them in the appropriate way. And don't you _dare_ ask me if I'm a priest, because I'm not!"

"But if you worked in a missionary…"

"I'm a volunteer – or I started out as one. I get paid these days. It's not much, but I've saved it mostly. I was a photographer once and now that I'm beginning to make peace with the last bit of my past, maybe I'll go for the professional."

"You liked taking pictures didn't you?"

"I liked the silence of the darkroom," said Draco. "There's a difference." He sighed, suddenly stopping. "Look, Ronald… _Ron_, I'm not who you think I am. I'm not my father – he's a bastard, I'm aware of that fact. I'm also aware of what I _can_ do and what I _can't_ do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can tell you that I'm sorry for all those dirty tricks, the way I treated you in school, but I _can't_ change it. I can live with my pain, but I _can't_ make you feel it. I can help people, but I don't have to. I _want_ to. There's a difference between your duty and your choices. I can grieve for everything I can't change, or I can accept it. I chose my path long ago. The least I can do is stick with it."

Ron blinked at him. "So, tell me about grief, then."

Draco looked at him, before he shrugged. "All right then. I'm going to start with a basic crash course in psychology for you. If you're observant, you might be good at it. Who knows, Weasley, maybe you'll impress me after all these years."

xxx

It was that conversation that left Draco with a sense of peace. The Malfoy-Weasley feud was over. Certainly, his father was there, but it wasn't _him_. He'd made his peace.

Draco decided that when Harry made his peace with Ginny's death and was ready to move on, he'd be there, waiting. Draco also knew that he would have to teach Harry how to say goodbye before he… left.

* * *

– Jodi Picoult

* * *

A/N: It's not _quite_ what I wanted, but I don't really feel like changing it... but it's close enough. And there's only TWO chapters left! I'm truly sorry for making you all wait for so, so very long. I'm hoping that I will finish this story this month (my summer vacation) before I start classes again next month. So… yay for me – I'm free. For a few more days anyway. Then back to school. ((_sigh_)).

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

Okay, I'm fairly sure I'm missing something. I keep thinking Pirates of the Caribbean, but nothing above is registering as a quote. If you see something there, let me know please!

**Review Response**:

**Kirai-Ninja**

**xXX Bishiman Sephiroth XXx**: Read _Book of Shadows_, the sequel to _Prophetic Resolution_ – she's in it and she's got one hell of a role, well more of one than she has in this story. Mind you, the first story was something of a parody and the second story is way darker. Thanks for the compliment.

**Shining Bright Eyes**: Thank you. I thought it'd be neat if one of Draco's friends thought he was an angel.

Thank you for reading this story and being so very patient. I'm hoping I'll get to update again this month… but again, school. If you're reading _Shadow of a Dream_, you know just how long it is until I really have time to update anything. In any case, I'm making a my own website, but I don't know when it will be up. It will have everything on it, I guess. That will take a while. On the other hand, I've offered those reading _Shadow of a Dream_ the option (meaning you have tell me if you want me to do this) of having everything placed on my lj as I go along or just sticking around for long periods of time for the stories here. I said it'd be faster (but much shorter) if I stick everything on my lj which needs and update, ASAP. This story, you don't need to worry about whether or not it will ever be completed – I just need to find the time to post it. I just hope the ending won't disappoint. In any case, I'm off.

Thanks again for reviewing and hopefully I'll be able to update again this month.

Cheers

Keir Raizel the evil genius

P.S.: Anyone a fan of Btvs? I've got a fic coming up. Ask me about it, if you're interested!


	23. XXII: Starting Over Again

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"Welcome to nowhere and finding out where it is

And fixing your problems and starting over again"

**

* * *

**

Chapter

**XXII**

**Starting Over Again**

It was strange, Ron would later think, on how Draco managed to make Harry go on with his life. Months had passed, and Harry had grieved, but he smiled again. He laughed again – and he was slowly beginning to return to the carefree self he had been before it all.

Draco sometimes said that Harry was ashamed of his scars, sometimes he was proud of them, but Ron didn't understand that. Hermione did. She understood that Harry – while he'd been hurting himself, he'd felt _happy_ in doing it. Now, he felt slightly ashamed of them. Other days, his scars reminded him that he had survived his own personal battle with his inner demons. At first, they worried about Harry – but Harry put away all of the objects that he could potentially use to hurt himself.

When she and the Weasleys arrived for dinner, Draco had been making their meal in the kitchen, which eventually sparked off the conversation between him and Molly, quickly exchanging recipes. Harry seemed to enjoy himself for the first time in many years. Hermione also observed something else, after the conversation had sparked off, and everyone was eating that Draco didn't eat. He drank a glass of water, but he never touched the food. He would speak when spoken to, but otherwise, he seemed content in merely observing them. She was almost surprised when Draco lifted his glass to his lips and arched an eyebrow at her. Almost. He had noticed that she was watching him.

And she wondered.

A few weeks later, Harry told them that Draco was moving out of his apartment. She wasn't surprised. She'd known it, perhaps, that Draco was beginning to get ready for his departure.

xxx

Draco, of course, did not really know what Hermione thought. He had, however, examined the situation and decided that it was time for Harry to begin letting _him_ go. It would be easier on everyone involved. So, he told Harry he was leaving.

"I've gotten an offer for a job."

"You have?" Harry asked. "But what about–?"

"I need the money. Besides, I haven't lived in one place this long since… God, since the war ended," Draco told him. "The job's good. It'll let me travel – it's based in Australia, but I can go anywhere and everywhere."

"That's good," Harry said. He wanted to feel numb, but he saw the passion in Draco's eyes, and he couldn't – it would be selfish.

Draco, of course, had wanted him to notice the passion. He wanted him to be happy for him, so that he could not dwell on the fact that it meant Draco was leaving him.

"I'm thinking about it, right now," he said. "I mean, it doesn't start until June…"  
And so the days went by.

They caught Lucius in May. Draco had expected an overly dramatic showdown, but the result was rather disappointing. Lucius Malfoy had been easily caught and had not put up much of a resistance. Lucius Malfoy had been caught and his trial made the headlines of the paper.

Which, of course brought him to the present.

_x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x_

_The Present_

Draco opened his eyes and glanced to where Harry was. Harry grinned at him, a silly grin that made Draco smile inwardly, knowing that Harry could do that now. It had taken a long time, but Harry could smile – be silly once again.

"I have to go," Draco told him. "Meet me in an hour over at the Italian place."

"Okay," Harry said, not knowing then that he would never see Draco again.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. They were in the Muggle world, and Draco was avoiding his father's trial. Not that he expected it to be dramatic or anything.

He walked away. He closed his eyes concentrating, before he opened his eyes and headed off toward the Ministry of Magick building. He caught up with her, just as she was about to step into the telephone booth.

"Morag MacDougal, right?" Draco asked her. Morag bit her lip and nodded. "Yes," she said. She looked slightly upset and Draco belatedly remembered sharing his very first kiss with the Ravenclaw.

"Do you know that Italian place…?" Draco spent several minutes convincing Morag to head over to the Italian place on the corner.

"So…. I'll see you in an hour, then, right?" she asked him, her gaze on him. Draco nodded.

He studied her, as she smiled at him gently. "You're a good person, Draco," she said.

Draco nodded, wondering if he was such a good person why he felt so sad.

He watched her go, looking at the long pale hair and remembering the beautiful eyes, a shade of blue so rare, it was only seen in the sky when the sun was setting.

_She's very pretty_, Draco thought. And he thought of Harry, with his crooked smile.

"Take care of him for me," Draco whispered softly into the wind.

It was time for him to go.

And he found it strange, that after having lingered on the edges of the world he'd been born into, that he didn't find it as frightening as he might have once thought. He could survive without the magick of his world – he knew that now.

And he wondered, briefly if Harry would be okay. He hoped so.

He shoved his hands in pockets only to pull them out quickly as something caught in the fabric. He stared at the ring. The Malfoy ring.

Draco bit his lip. He knew what he had to do – first he had to go back to Malfoy Manor. With a sigh, and a quick glance around himself, Draco Apparated to his childhood home.

It took him a long time to find it, but he found it – in the music box he'd placed it in the night before Voldemort's fall. He didn't look at it, but he remembered the way he'd painfully created the words on parchment. He knew that it was blood-stained, his own blood, and his own tears. Of course, that was the last page. This whole journal was created in blood. His own blood, for that was the magick of this diary. It held his own essence. It was not a Horcrux – as Draco had never killed anyone in rage and in the cold desire to create a Horcrux. This was a desire to have nothing but the truth recorded. He picked it up, and slid it into his pocket, before he left the Manor for the last time.

Draco knew now what he had to do with the ring and his own diary. He had placed the ring on his finger, and the ring grew warm now, for the first time in years, with his own body heat, but Draco didn't notice it. He was too busy wondering if he was doing the right thing. He wondered if he had found his absolution.

* * *

– Shinedown

* * *

A/N: Again, not really what I wanted, but I'm not going to change it. So, drop me a line, let me know what you thought! The quote most likely makes no sense, but it was the closest thing I could hope to find for this chapter….

I'm finishing this story today because I don't have time to update. Having this one done will be a bit of a relief. In any case, review if you wish. I'm glad a lot of you seemed to enjoy this story since it's definitely not one of my favorites…

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

None this chapter that I know of…

Review Response is the next chapter.


	24. XXIII: The Road Back

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark violation is intended.

**Added note/disclaimer**: I also use quotes from other places. If you find a quote that wasn't cited, please notify me. Especially in this story as it has lot of the quotes, and I can't remember who said them or where I found them…

* * *

"What if you slept?

And what if in your sleep, you dreamed?

And what if in your dream, you went to heaven

and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower?

And what if, when you woke, you had the flower in your hand?"

**

* * *

**

Chapter XXIII

**The Road Back**

_The Present_

"The Wizengammot has decided to sentence Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban for exactly thirteen years. After thirteen years, he will be sentenced for life in the psychiatric ward for the criminally insane at St. Mungo's hospital," Hermione announced. "It is a compromise between those of us who believe that Lucius Malfoy deserves the sentence in Azkaban for coolly plotting the demise of several of high standing members of our society and those who support the plea made on the behalf of Lucius Malfoy as a criminally insane man."

Hermione could see the mixed reactions. The psychiatric ward was a new thing, which she herself had planted in St. Mungo's, saying that the Wizarding world needed more than just the ability to heal the physical wounds of its world – it also needed to understand the minds (and the mental state) of its members. She built it with the hope that it would prevent another Voldemort from rising to power, as she had passed the laws that clearly stated that the educational system needed to have their private counselor, a trained psychologist. Hermione wondered briefly if Draco would like to go back to Hogwarts to help it heal the minds of those who _were_ mentally disturbed. She could recommend him herself as she'd seen him fix Harry.

"Is there anything anyone would like to say on Lucius Malfoy's behalf?"

Lucius Malfoy himself looked up.

Hermione nodded, wondering what he would say.

"I do not know anyone who would plead on my behalf," Lucius Malfoy said slowly. "I am aware that many, if not all here either hate me or pity me and I do not make the mistake in thinking they would go so far to have me committed to the insanity ward instead of Azkaban. Tell me, who in this world would make such a plea?"

"The same person who gave us the evidence against you," Hermione said simply.

"And who was that?" Lucius asked.

Ron looked surprised. "Why, your son, of course."

"I have no son," said Lucius Malfoy. Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Ron began to ask what he meant, but he did not have to because Lucius Malfoy continued, "I remember a young boy, with hair so fine, it resembled threads of silver. He had eyes that matched my own – except they had stolen some of the moon's light. He called himself my son. Narcissa called him Draco. I thought him my son, but he was not my son."

The whole of the hall fell silent, hushed in its shock.

Lucius continued, almost talking to himself, "No… he _was_ my son, but he is no longer my son. My son is dead. He died nine years ago. He died on some idiotic thought that he could save Harry Potter. So, no, my son could not have pleaded on my behalf – he could not have given you the evidence… although…" Lucius paused. "There was always something strange about that child Draco. Something odd in the way he could touch a bird's broken wing and only to have it unbroken when he opened his hands to let it fly away. I remember he put his hands on a House-elf once, it was dying from an 'unnecessary vicious kick', he claimed, glaring at me with those self-righteous eyes. It healed under his hands. Draco had the strangest eyes, they were the same color as mine, yet he seemed to have stolen the light of heaven and would glare with it, passing judgment on us, weary, petty mortals." Lucius laughed, suddenly. "Narcissa once claimed that Draco's friend had the strangest notion that Draco was hiding a pair of angel's wings. Perhaps he was. Nonetheless, he died for that idiot Harry Potter." Lucius looked up at Hermione. "I killed him, you see. He stood in front of me and glared at me with those damnable eyes. He claimed I had lost all reason, to at least claim some of it – to be logical. The Dark Lord Voldemort would fall – killing Potter would not make any difference. He was in my way. I killed him. I remember – he is dead. He _must_ be dead…" Lucius frowned. "And yet… he watches me still. Those eyes of his – I know them. He judges all of us mortals, so petty and finds us unworthy…"

Hermione was staring at Lucius Malfoy. And now – _now_ she remembered that night.

_xxx_

"_Harry!" she screamed, trying to reach him before Lucius Malfoy could utter that curse._

_"No, you can't!" Ron yelled at her, running next to her. He was crying, but he didn't seem to notice it._

_She ran, as fast as she could – but suddenly – suddenly Draco Malfoy was standing in front of his father, his wand blazing in his hand like a fallen star he'd caught from the sky before it hit the ground_

_"No," she heard him say. "You can't do this, Father. Mother didn't want this world! She wanted him to win!"  
"She will be proud of me – the one who killed the boy who would kill the Dark Lord!"_

_"She would be ashamed," Draco said fiercely. "She was a spy for them! How do you think they knew where to go? Are you so blind! See reason, Father – please, find the logic left in your mind! Mother wouldn't want you to do this."_

_Hermione watched, open-mouthed, amazed. She turned to Ron, but Ron had seen his sister and gone running to her side. Ginny was dead, lying fallen against the floor, her bright red hair clashing against the black-green of the grass._

_She turned back to the two Malfoys._

_"Father, I'm begging you, please, don't do this!"_

_"I must, Draco. It is for your own good. Now, move out of the way, you foolish boy!"_

_"No!" Draco said fiercely. In his hands, the wand became even brighter. He was casting a spell – an ancient one, but she didn't know it. She had to reach them, Hermione thought frantically._

_"Your sacrifice will be for naught! They will never honor you for falling."_

_"I don't care! I knew what I was doing when I agreed to become their spy, Father. Maybe they will never know what I have done, but I will know. That's all that matters."_

_"They will remember the way you betrayed your own friends, how you allowed the war to enter your school."_

_"I know what I'm doing," Draco said._

_"Move!" said Lucius yet again._

_He doesn't want to kill him, Hermione thought as she watched Lucius shoving Draco out of the way. Yet, Draco moved in front of his father as those fatal words left his mouth. Draco cried out, and his wand – his wand lit up so brightly it resembled a sun. In for a moment, she saw him – he was suspended, and then, he crumpled to the floor – no, he was just… gone…_

_She looked there, and realized that he was not gone, he had crumpled to the floor, a broken angel, his pale blonde hair visible against the darkness._

_"Draco!" Lucius said, dropping to his knees, reaching out to touch his son. She stared, watching as Lucius Malfoy's mind shattered completely. She turned away, running to help Harry – he'd fallen – and Voldemort – Voldemort was dead. When she came back, there was nothing left, but a broken wand…_

xxx

"Oh my God," Hermione breathed. "But how – no one except – I need to go."

"Hermione!" Ron said, but she was already out the door, moving so quickly, no one had the time to stop her.

She ran out of the Ministry building, heading – hoping to find Draco.

"Draco!" she cried, when she spotted that hair. He turned and several other people did. They parted until she reached him.

"Lovers, perhaps," someone said, looking at them.

"Lucky her… did you _see_ him? What a face!"

But she ignored the comments.

"Hermione," he said, simply. Draco's gray eyes looked into hers, searching her face. "Come, walk with me," he said.

They walked in silence until finally Hermione said, "How?"  
"I was wondering when my father would mention that he killed me," Draco said.

"That's all you can say?" Hermione asked him. "I don't understand!"  
"You have a brilliant mind, Hermione. I know you watched as my father killed me," Draco said.

"How can this be?" Hermione asked him. "You're _real_ – other people see you – you have a _history_ – and yet… how can you be… _dead_?"

"Am I?" asked Draco. "Am I really dead, or am I alive and a madman claims that I am dead."

"I saw you die!"

"So I've been told," said Draco. "But people only see what they want to see, Hermione."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco shook his head. He stopped and she stopped. "I was hoping you would find me," he said finally. "I'm leaving."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"My time's up," Draco said simply. "I've given all I have; I've done all that I could do. It's time for me to move on. I have wondered what it is like to gain peace. Ginevra never feared death, you know. She claimed it was just another stage of being." He smiled gently at her. "I have something. I want you to give this to Harry."

Hermione watched as Draco lifted his right hand and pulled off the heavy onyx ring from his hand.

"It's the Malfoy ring. This is ancient magick," Draco said. "Because not all Malfoys were male and so, the ring could only be passed on willingly to the heir or the heiress, as it was. The magick of it is that it grants whoever holds it, provided it was given freely or taken by blood and conquest, gains the Malfoy estates and magick. They will become the new Malfoy."

"What does this have anything to do with –?"

Draco smiled at Hermione. "I want you to give to Harry." He pressed the warm ring into the palm of hand, closing her fingers around it. "And take this. My life – from the day I was given this journal, to the day Voldemort fell."

She watched numbly as he slipped the book into her purse.

"Take care of him for me," Draco said.

Hermione opened her mouth to demand answers – to tell him that he couldn't just leave like that.

But Draco stepped off the curb and Hermione saw the car, speeding toward him. It wasn't going to stop in time. She opened her mouth to scream a warning, as the people around her realized what would happen and several people cried out a warning. She would always remember the smell of the tires – the sound of the brakes suddenly being slammed. Yet, when they looked, Draco was not there. There was no sign of his having ever been there. She stared at the place where Draco should be – where he had to have been, because there had been no crack to signal his leaving, never noticing the single white feather that floated to land at her feet – she was far too busy staring, trying to comprehend how Draco could have disappeared.

_"__Avada Kedavra," Lucius Malfoy said and Draco crumpled to the floor._

Hermione stared, uncomprehending at the empty space where the car should have hit Draco and killed him. But it hadn't because Draco was already dead… or was he alive?

She suddenly felt the warming ring in the palm of her hand, the only proof that – that what? What had she been thinking – she had known something… someone… She looked down at the ring in her hand, and felt a shiver because the ring was familiar… almost as if from a dream.

She frowned. Draco – no why would Malfoy be there? He was dead, wasn't he?

Hermione put a hand to her head, trying to clear it – trying to remember – something about Draco Malfoy...The ring warming in her hand was proof that he _had_ been there and it wasn't a dream… or was it? She could not remember and she had no proof. Yet, for a moment, she almost heard – or perhaps she remembered in a long since forgotten dream, the echo of Draco Malfoy's voice in the wind, whispering to the world, _"Goodbye."_

**x-x-x-x-x-x**

_A tortured soul  
A wound unhealing  
No regrets or promises  
The past is gone  
But you can still be free  
If time will set you free  
Time now to spread your wings  
To take to flight  
The life endeavor  
Aim for the burning sun  
You're trapped inside  
But you can still be free  
If time will set you free  
But it's a long long way to go_

Keep moving way up high  
You see the light  
It shines forever  
Sail through the crimson skies  
The purest light  
The light that sets you free…

**x-x-x-x-x-x**

**End**

* * *

– Samuel Taylor Coleridge

* * *

A/N: As usual, this is my ending notes – and my explanation as to why I wrote the story to begin with. The question you should ask at the end of this is – was Draco an angel, a ghost, or was he a living and mortal (or immortal) human? Anyway, let me know what you think in a review. As for this story, I never planned for this story to have a sequel, and thus there will be no sequel. Usually, I allow people to convince me otherwise, but for this story, there can be no sequel. As for the quote, I don't know if makes sense. I knew what I was writing when I picked it. I wanted something else, but anything else gives too much away. Another thing, I guess I generally write what I think of a story at the end. This story was a challenge because it didn't follow my plan for it… at all…. For one thing, I don't think I got all the stages of grief – denial, anger, sorrow, acceptance, and that last one I can't remember now – the bargaining part, I think it was. Of course, it doesn't really matter, because ultimately, grief makes no sense to anyone but itself. Grief is something that cannot be touched or explained – it can only be felt. I hope that in this story I managed to catch some of it with Harry. Harry, as far as Draco was concerned, was stable enough to survive without him – it's why he left. The question, though – was he there and did he leave them behind with a spell that left no memory of him or was he never really there.

When I first sat down and plotted out this story, (this was, really, my third story, because, if you'll notice, I'm quite new in the world of fanfiction – compared to some who have been around since the very beginning), I wanted to write a ghost story in part. It was to be part love story, part ghost story, part tragedy, and I've long since forgotten what the last part was meant to be – something whimsical, I imagine. It did not end the way I had planned – in fact, I can safely say this story developed a life of its own and literally told itself. Despite what I wanted, in the end, it became more of a psychological story than it is an emotional story – than the story I wanted it to be... because you have to wonder if Draco was really there to begin with...

**Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:**

1. At the end, a part of Savage Garden's "You Can Still Be Free" – I don't know if it makes sense, but… I hope you understand why I chose it…

**Review Response:**

**InuyashanKagomerlovers**

**tora.of.the.sand**

**llamallamacheesecake**

**Shining Bright Eyes**

**jy**

Thank you for your reviews, for your patience, and for some of the encouraging things you said. Like I said, I'm relatively new in the world of fanfiction writing. This one was my third story. Honestly, I'm surprised at the amount of reviews I got for it. I certainly didn't expect to get this many. It's a lot less than my stories seem to get by the time I finish them, but I thought there'd be even less. For that, I'm grateful. You're welcomed to look around. Some of the grammar, especially in the stories from when I was first beginning to write, is awful in my opinion.

Keir Raizel the evil genius


End file.
